#if anybody writes something or draws something inspired by this PLEASE tag me I really wanna see it!

[pechoraflow]

All the fake-death and family angst aside, I feel like the Agent 37/Spyral arc should have been given to Tim.

DC is struggling to figure out what Tim wants to do with his life - why not make him a covert spy-op infiltrator? He has the detective skills and tech skills to keep himself off-grid. He is just as toxically self-sufficient as Bruce. He's the type to have backup fake identities to his backup fake identities. He's one of the few Batfamily members that wouldn't just manage to stay undercover for a few months - he could do it for years, and he could thrive in that environment. His morals are looser than Dick's and Bruce's, but he still follows orders better than Damian or Jason. He'd be the perfect double agent.

I mean, if it were me, I'd make Tim's parents part of the Court of Owls, make the Court a worldwide organization, and have Tim's life goal be dismantling every Court operation around the world. But perhaps that's too much canon divergence for some. That's ok.

Even the family angst plays into Tim's character. Having to go off grid for so long, go months, years without contact... He might start to wonder if he even matters to the family. He checks in on them periodically to make sure they're okay, and they're just fine. At first, he's relieved. But after awhile, he's hurt. He's glad they're fine, but don't they miss him? He wishes they were a little sad he was gone - then hates himself for thinking that way.

He throws himself into his work to keep himself from that train of thought, because he's taken that line before and he doesn't like where it leads. It all leads to the family having to pull him out every so often to reassure him that they love him, that he is irreplaceable in the family, and that he can come home whenever he wants to. After one too many extractions, they start making holiday attendance mandatory and Tim starts to get a better handle on work-life balance.

Idk. I'd like to read some Tim Drake spy adventures. I think he'd be great, and I think you could get at least a decade of great stories with him stretching his wings a little. Give him his own enemies in the spy world - hackers, assassins, people with just as many false identities as he has... It could be awesome.

[sweetkpopmusings]

long for you (act one) | h. hyunjin <3

a/n: hello and welcome to the first act of my hyunjin fic :,-) it is past my bedtime, so please ignore any typos lol. if you'd like to be added to the tag list, you can reply to this post or send me an ask ! pics not mine <3

♡ find all parts here ♡

content: fluff, romance, fake dating, angst, a happy ending | wc: 3.5k | warnings: none really! | pairing: nonbinary!painter!hyunjin x gn!writer!reader | requests: open

synopsis: y/n is a writer with a long-awaited, well-deserved career opportunity. despite the excitement, there’s one major problem: the publisher expects a modern love story, equally romcom-like and authentic, but y/n lacks the inspiration to write something worth reading. through a chance meeting with mutual friends, y/n and hyunjin bond over upcoming deadlines and creative blocks. before the conversation ends, they discover that the ridiculous plot of fake dating might just work to solve their inspirational dry spell.

act one: a modern love story

groaning, you push your laptop to the side and rest your head against your hands.

felix, from the other side of your dining table, holds back a laugh, “that bad, huh?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes despite them being closed, “worse, probably.”

you hear felix shift in his chair, and you know he’s resting his chin on his hands, his classic flower pose he uses whenever you need his smile to cheer up. letting the frustration hang over you, a few minutes pass before you look up to see the sweet boy across from you. when you do, you can’t help the small smile that breaks through your bitter face.

“hah! i knew you couldn’t resist me,” felix teases, leaning back in his seat but making no move to take his attention away from you.

knowing he’s going to ask you what’s wrong, you explain, “so, you know how earlier this week i booked that gig with the publishing company?”

“yeah, the ghostwriting job for Odd One Out, right?”

you nod, “exactly. this is supposed to be a great thing. arguably the best thing that could happen for my writing career, even if it’s a book my name can’t be on, since it’s at least a foot in the door. and i’m not saying i’m ungrateful–”

“but?”

“i’ve been trying all week to come up with even the smallest idea for the prompt they gave me, and it feels as though this is the worst writer’s block i’ve ever had and ever will experience.”

felix frowns, sympathetic, “do you think maybe the pressure of such a big opportunity is getting to you? i know all of us, at one point or another, have hit a wall because of imposter syndrome or just plain anxiety.”

you let his words bounce around your mind for a little. they don’t seem incorrect–surely such a monumental opportunity would leave you feeling a little apprehensive or stressed–but they don’t seem to capture the full picture. 

“i think…” you glance at felix, a little helplessly, but he just waits patiently until you find the right words, “that’s definitely part of it. if i’m being honest though, i think the biggest obstacle i’m facing is the subject itself.”

“which is?” felix cocks an eyebrow.

you drag your laptop back in front of you and open the window with the email the company sent you detailing your project, “you are tasked with writing a modern love story. one that swoons readers with classic tropes, one that pulls on their heartstrings with the right amount of angst, and, ultimately, one that makes us believe two imperfect people can find the perfect relationship together. we look forward to your first manuscript!”

“oh, i see…”

“yeah. they’ve asked me to write a story that i have practically nothing in my own experiences to draw from. i can’t exactly copy stories that are already out there when the whole point of this novel is that the characters are human and believable. they need me to write a story with heart, with messiness, and certainly with a happy ending. i’ve had the mess a few times, sure, but not for long enough to keep anybody’s attention if i turn the story into something more than a casual conversation piece over drinks.”

you push your laptop away, not wanting to look at the prompt or empty word document for another second. instead, you opt for a swig of your coffee, praying the caffeine would lift your spirits, if nothing else.

felix’s brow is furrowed as the gears in his head turn quickly. it’s hard not to laugh at his expression, cute and sincere simultaneously. you keep yourself quiet, smiling in appreciation of your friend’s genuine concern for your professional predicament.

“first, i’ll admit that this sucks. i can’t imagine how frustrating it’d be to feel almost…disconnected from an assignment you were so excited to receive. i can’t exactly offer help with my relationship history,” felix laughs, sharing your pain of bad luck in love, “but maybe if we combine our disappointments with jisung’s hopeless romantic outlook, you could come up with something?”

you sigh. it wouldn’t be out of the question to ask jisung for help. he’s a dear friend, just like felix, and he never struggles to write a love song for work. creative collaboration wouldn’t hurt, right? well, maybe it hurts your pride a little to go running to your brilliant music producer and songwriter best friend for advice on your first-ever real book deal. at this point, though, what other choice do you have?

“yeah, maybe you’re right.”

felix grins, “let’s go visit him at the studio then! we can bring him lunch in exchange for his assistance!”

“i mean…he is our best friend, so i don’t see why we have to pay him,” you tease, already packing up your things.

“i was going to pay for everyone’s food, but i guess we can all just fend for ourselves–”

“no! i’m being dumb and rude! buying lunch for jisung is a wonderful idea!”

felix laughs, texting jisung to alert him of your ETA and to get his order from your usual restaurant.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

jisung tosses his spoon into the nearly empty takeout container and claps his hands together, “okay! let’s get started!”

you sigh, stretching your arms and neck before pulling out your laptop. felix settles in the corner, ready to spend time on his phone while you and jisung work your magic.

“can i see the prompt they sent you?”

nodding, you hand jisung your laptop and explain, “i understand what they want. almost too well, probably. the issue is i have absolutely no inspiration for it.”

“yeah, i could’ve guessed that,” jisung teases, nervously laughing after the death glare you send him.

felix chimes in from his spot in the studio’s corner, “play nice, jisung! they’re practically baring their soul to you asking for help.”

“okay, let’s not be dramatic here,” you shake your hand to dissipate the idea that you’re being as vulnerable as you are right now.

“drama might help, actually,” felix suggests, not looking up from his phone.

you look over to jisung, waiting for him to weigh in. a bit to your dismay, jisung agrees with felix.

“so you’re saying my life is too boring for me to write this book?”

jisung shakes his head, “no! i’m saying your love life is too boring. i say that with peace and love, of course–”

“how can you–”

jisung continues before you fall down a rabbit hole of bickering, “i think the reason i can write so many love songs is because i put myself out there. sure, i fall too hard too fast and get my heart broken more often than i’d like to admit, but i am able to do what i do because i let my heart experience everything. i haven’t been in real, capital-L love many times; however, even the littlest of loves, the glimpses of a future with someone, those can be a bigger source of inspiration than you’d expect.”

“wow, jisung, that was…really deep.”

you chuckle at felix’s response, before looking at the very earnest jisung again, “it’s not like i haven’t loved someone before. you remember…”

your voice trails off, too afraid to say his name, too afraid to bring the memories of your first love into the room with you. jisung nods knowingly and speaks quickly enough to prevent you from searching for words to fill the empty space.

“i could never forget that, y/n. maybe that could be something you pull from. i’m more than happy to retell you some of my romantic mishaps–you know i’ve got plenty–but i think, for a story as heartfelt as the one they want you to write, for a story as real as the one you want to create, it needs to come from the perspective of you now, not you then.”

you sigh, finding it impossible to disagree with his advice. for as much as you and felix tease him for getting his hopes up with every person he feels the slightest bit of a connection to, you both would admit in a heartbeat that he is the most well-versed lover in the world. you wished, secretly, that you could muster up the courage he does without even blinking an eye. you just weren’t wired like that, especially after you got your heart broken a few years ago.

“so what? do i start dating now and hope that i get enough romance before the first draft is due in three months?”

“good luck with that,” felix scoffs, “there are way too many duds on dating apps these days.”

jisung shoots felix a frustrated look, but he just shrugs in reply. 

“cool, so no dating but i need to fall in love. do either of you happen to have cupid on speed dial?”

they laugh, and felix adds, “if only you could be in a fake dating fanfic or something. then you’d really have something to work with.”

all three of you burst into laughter at the idea, and, once you calm down, jisung says, “actually…there might be something to that.”

“you can’t be serious?” you raise an eyebrow skeptically.

jisung puts his hands up defensively, “hear me out! it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to fake date someone you know, if it’s for the sake of work. between the three of us, we could probably find someone!”

“no way am i sending out requests for a fake partner. that couldn’t work, and it would be so embarrassing.” 

you shiver at the idea. jisung doesn’t budge, though he admits that it’s a long shot for it to work. felix suggests that you three reminisce about jisung’s recent romantic pursuits, which you do for a couple of hours. when it’s time for you to pack your things, you’re barely farther than the starting line. jisung apologizes that he couldn’t be more help, and felix offers to bake you your favorite treat as consolation. you assure both of them that they shouldn’t feel bad–you accept felix’s baked goods, of course–but, try as you might, you can’t get rid of the slump in your shoulders. this book is supposed to be a big step towards your dream. this story is supposed to be your gateway to being the writer you were meant to be. you never expected it to go smoothly, but you have to admit that you wish something as easy as a fanfic trope would solve your problem.

as felix says goodnight, he smiles softly, “hey, y/n, don’t be too hard on yourself, okay? it’s frustrating, and it feels like there’s no way out, but you’re smart and capable and strong enough to see it through. plus, the universe will take care of it. someone will show up sooner rather than later, and you’ll have that story in no time!”

you smile, grateful for his neverending efforts to make you feel better, “thanks, sunshine. i’ll try to have the same kind of hope you have, despite everything.”

“despite everything,” he nods firmly before turning away to head back home himself.

you stare at the door, your place quiet, save the humming sound of your appliances, and you wonder how fate could have anything to offer you with such short notice.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

felix picks a few stray pieces of lint off your top and smiles proudly once your outfit is perfect. even though you’re feeling nervous, you can’t help but smile back at your friend’s beaming face.

“thank you again for coming with me to this, y/n. i don’t know if i could survive a whole company event without someone i like by my side.”

“don’t you have changbin? i’m sure he’d happily stay by your side all night.”

“i do,” felix agrees, “but he said he was bringing a plus-one, so i didn’t want to third wheel.”

“ah, how lovely it feels to be chosen as a preventative for third-wheeling,” you tease as felix opens the venue door for you.

“jisung isn’t the only one who can be romantic,” felix giggles and nudges your shoulder with his, helping to relax your nerves.

the venue is rather large, and there are more strangers here than you’d prefer. thankfully, you see changbin waving from a distance, so you know there won’t be any awkward small talk with felix’s other coworkers to get through. though they met through work, changbin and felix have been friends for years, thus making you a friend in changbin’s eyes. you take a couple of drinks from a waiter as changbin not-so-smoothly rushes his way towards you and felix, a tall person close behind him. as felix and changbin greet each other, you do a quick sweep over changbin’s plus-one. he’s well-dressed, probably the most fashionable one in the whole place, and frustratingly statuesque in appearance. his black hair frames his face and brushes his neck ever so slightly, and the only thing preventing him from looking dark and mysterious is the softness of his features, particularly his sweet brown eyes.

“y/n! this is hyunjin,” changbin grins, gesturing to the person beside him.

“hi y/n, it’s nice to meet you,” hyunjin smiles, voice lilting delicately.

you smile, unable to resist the naturally playful glint in his eye, “it’s nice to meet you too, hyunjin. how do you know changbin?”

“we met back in university,” hyunjin answers, “we lived together for the first two years.”

“best two years of my life!” changbin wraps an arm around hyunjin, and hyunjin laughs loudly.

“cute!” felix smiles, “so glad i get to finally meet you in person, hyunjin.”

“likewise,” hyunjin nods.

the conversation jumps around, mostly directed by changbin and felix telling anecdotes about the various coworkers that pass by. you and hyunjin laugh and ask questions, gasping at the drama and ridiculousness that pervades their workplace. eventually, felix asks what hyunjin does for work, and you’re surprised to learn that he’s a painter. or, rather, he works in design to pay the bills and paints in all of his free time, showing works wherever and whenever he can to build his reputation in the city.

“that’s so cool!” felix exclaims, and then points to you, “y/n is a writer. i’m sure you two could relate on a bunch of stuff since you’re both creative professionals.”

“what do you write?” hyunjin asks, looking at you intently as he takes a sip of his drink.

“fiction, mostly. i’ve taken plenty of different freelance gigs in the past that gave me experience writing all sorts of things, but i prefer writing short stories and novels.”

changbin lights up, “oh that’s right! congratulations are in order!”

you smile sheepishly, and explain, after hyunjin asks, that you just signed a ghostwriting book deal with a publishing company.

“that’s incredible! i know it couldn’t have been easy to secure that. i’d love to read some of your work since you’ve clearly got talent.”

“thank you, hyunjin, but i don’t know about that,” you laugh a little, “we’ll see if i have enough talent to write this book.”

hyunjin’s brow furrows, and felix responds, “they’re having some writer’s block. the prompt is a little…out of their wheelhouse. i have no doubt they’ll figure it out though!”

you pat felix’s shoulder lovingly, “yes, he believes that i’ll figure it out as soon as the universe sends me someone to fake date.”

changbin tilts his head in confusion, “is it a fake dating story?”

you swallow a sip of your drink and shake your head, “no, it’s supposed to be a ‘modern love story.’ full of angst and authenticity, and, most importantly, it’s supposed to be human enough to make us all believe it’s possible.”

hyunjin chuckles when you roll your eyes, which makes you blush a little as you realize he’s watching you so closely. 

“well, if you need someone to fake date,” changbin grins, “hyunjin would probably be a good fit.”

it’s time for you to tilt your head in confusion, “wait. hyunjin isn’t your boyfriend?”

hyunjin throws his head back and cackles while changbin giggles, “no, unfortunately we’re just friends. maybe one day i can break through, but five years down the line, i’m still getting rejected.”

“oh, stop pouting!” hyunjin smacks changbin’s shoulder, “you don’t actually want to date me.”

“and how would you know that?” changbin wiggles his eyebrows, “can’t a guy dream of dating someone like you?”

“it seems like you’re going to be dreaming for a long time, changbin. you might just not be their type,” felix teases.

their type? 

“anyway,” changbin says after his giggles die down, “hyunjin has been struggling with the theme for an exhibition they have coming up. maybe you two could help each other out!”

“what’s giving you writer’s–or, should i say, painter’s block?” you ask.

hyunjin chuckles, “the theme is ‘yearning.’ my friend, jeongin, is the gallery director and has been on a real angst kick these days after meeting someone special. not that i don’t have my fair share of yearning experiences, but i just can’t crack into something deep enough to create something that matters, you know?”

you sure did know, which is how you two spent almost the entire night discussing inspiration, love, heartache, creativity, longing, and everything else possible. eventually, felix and changbin leave you two alone to talk to their other coworkers, given that they couldn’t get a word in edge-wise with how passionately the two of you were talking. if you were honest, you hardly noticed they were gone. that’s just how captivating the conversation, and hyunjin, were. 

“ugh, it feels so good to talk to someone who gets it,” hyunjin sighs.

“i agree,” you smile, “it may not solve the problem, but it reduces the stress.”

“cheers to that!”

you and hyunjin clink your glasses together, and you reply, “also, sorry if i misgendered you when i assumed you were changbin’s boyfriend. totally my bad!”

hyunjin waves his hand in the air, “don’t worry about it! you weren’t exactly wrong. i use they/he pronouns, so technically i could be a boyfriend. just not changbin’s.”

you two laugh at this, and you’re relieved that you didn’t unintentionally get off on the wrong foot with someone who can relate to your current creative predicament so deeply.

“actually, speaking of boyfriends…” hyunjin trails off, waiting to get your full attention.

“what about them?”

“i’d be happy to be your fake one, if you really did want to try that out.”

“oh, you don’t have to do that,” you laugh a little, “that was an idea my friends brought up, but i didn’t take it seriously.”

hyunjin nods, “i see. well, even if it seems ridiculous, i think it could work. hell, i’d be down to try it too. i’m feeling pretty frustrated about this painting series, and maybe something out of pocket like a fanfic trope could do the trick.”

you observe them, trying to catch a sign that he’s joking, “really?”

“yeah,” they shrug, “what’s the harm? you’re a writer who needs inspiration, and i’m a painter who needs inspiration. instead of doing some dramatic spiritual artist retreat in the middle of nowhere, we take each other on some dates and explore the ideas of love and yearning together. sort of like a…group project!”

his eyes light up, and you can feel yourself getting won over already by their charm, “when do you have to finish your paintings?”

“i have to bring them to jeongin in three months.”

huh.

“that’s…well, that timing’s sort of perfect,” you admit, “my first manuscript is due in three months.”

hyunjin grins, “so it sounds like we might give this fake dating thing a try?”

you sigh, unsure of what you could be getting yourself into, “what would that even look like?”

hyunjin hums, putting their hand to their chin, deep in thought. you let a silence fall between you two, hoping one of you can come up with a good idea. your bet is on hyunjin, though, because you can’t begin to think through how a fake dating situation between two artists, two muses, should go.

hyunjin snaps his fingers, “i’ve got it! let’s say we just take each other on dates for the next three months. no expectations for the dates, no strict schedule, and no pressure to actually develop feelings or fall in love. we spend time together naturally, go through the experiences of getting to know someone, and we use that for our work. if, after a few weeks, it isn’t doing the trick, then we call it off. no harm, no foul. what do you say?”

maybe it was their enthusiasm. maybe you’re a sucker for a beautiful person with a creative mind. maybe you trust that someone who is good friends with sweetheart changbin could only have the best of intentions. maybe, just maybe, you trust what felix said the other day about the universe giving you what you need for this book to work out. whatever it is, something convinced you to stretch your hand out toward hyunjin.

hyunjin shakes your hand, and you smile, “no harm, no foul.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tag list: @velvetmoonlght (<333 tysm)

[neon-junkie]

Duality - Chpts 1,2&3

Summary: There's a handful of things you hate, like the men who continue to pester you at the Saloon after you've told them no, or the way strangers look at you when you decide to wear pants. But the one thing you hate that most is Micah Bell. But if you hate him so much, then why are you allowing him to wrap his hand around your neck as he grinds his crotch down against yours? Is he using you? or are you using him?

Pairing: Micah Bell x f!Reader

Word Count: 8837 (ongoing work) 

Rating: NSFW Warnings: Depictions of Violence (Reader is fine)

Tags: Dead Dove: Do not eat, Fights/Arguments, Slow burn, Hate sex, Enemies with benefits, Enemies to lovers, Pity sex, Vaginal sex, Outdoor sex, Creampies, Blood kink, Knives, Choking, Breath play, Rough/Manhandling, Heists & Robberies, Nipple sucking/licking, Making out, Sloppy kisses, Dirty talking, Grinding.

Notes: This fic was inspired by the gang of children that recently decided to start hurdling abuse at me simply because I enjoy Micah character. If he bad then why he make my pussy go brr?? I ain't ever gonna stop writing for him, somebody's gotta love the ratman so I guess I'll volunteer as tribute. This piece is inspired by @deputytrash​ and their work called ‘Micah Bell is a Rat Bastard,’ that I can’t actually link here because Tumblr hates links:))) so please go stalk them for the original fic. shoutout to all the other Micah fuckers out there; we're kinda fucked up but hey, we ain't hurting anybody<3

[Chapter 4]

Some men are born with the purest of hearts; they're full of good intentions, kindness, willingness to help others. They want to see the world go round, they enjoy watching the days go by with their loved ones around them. They want nothing more than love and equality, happiness for everyone, and they strive to achieve that. Those men, such as Arthur, are ones that you obviously enjoy for such reasons, and you enjoy watching them on the sideline, smiling at the way they make everyone happy. You've tried dating those men before and something felt... off about them, almost fake; you wish to enjoy such relationships with the purest of men, but you've never been able to sit in that saddle comfortably. The leather smells off and something constantly jabs at your tailbone. It's fine, honestly, to not sit comfortably in that saddle. Others can enjoy those men, ones who deserve them, ones who are just as pure and wholesome as those men they seek out. You're happy for them, you enjoy seeing them enjoy each others company, they really do deserve it. Only that leaves you with the problem of 'who the hell am I meant to fall for?' There are others who are sometimes split down the middle, with good and bad intentions, men such as Dutch who eventually crack under so much pressure, as expected. But these men have never really taken your fancy either. You curse the Gods for creating you with no intentions to seek out those pure of heart, or even slightly pure of heart. Why can't you be considered normal? You're a good person, yet you don't long for someone as good as you. 

Instead, those who have only ever walked the darker path take your fancy. Those men who have no good intentions in them, who only look out for themselves and sometimes (but rarely) the few people closest to them, if you're stupid enough to get close to them, to begin with. You enjoy the challenge, you enjoy taming the beast, being the one person that someone so wild can trust. It's a generic trope that you've read in romance novels where the princess falls for the villain, but they always seem to have the happiest of endings? and the stories themselves are so juicy, so rich and full of layers. The generic happy couple trope gets so boring, nothing to read into. But if you're given a story about a well-layered villain who softens out within time then you'll eat said story off the dirt if you have to, it's always so rich and fulfilling, though you never expected to end up in one. "Which book are you reading today?" Mary-Beth asks you as she joins you on the beach, leaning back against the log you're leaning against. You do miss sitting on the cliff at Horseshoe Overlook, peering up at the landscape whenever your eyes need a break from being so engulfed in whatever book you were reading. But there's something just as good as looking out at the water, hearing the waves lapping against the shore as you read, enjoying the river breeze on a hot Lemoyne day. "The same as last time, that one centered around the villain," you tell her, your eyes momentarily peeking up to watch as she sits down beside you. "Still? Oh, you and your dark fiction," Mary-Beth replies with a laugh. She'd given your book that nickname after you explained the plot to her. Mary-Beth, as wholesome and pure as she is, couldn't quite understand why you'd get so engulfed in a book where the princess falls for the villain, completely ignoring the stud hero and running off with the bad guy instead. After explaining how layered the villain was, and how his actions were the result of past trauma, she somewhat understood but decided that she's happy with her sappy romance novels. That's understandable, your taste isn't for everyone, and you'd both agreed on that. "Like I said, I just find it more interesting," you reply, your eyes trailing over to the landscape. "Which book have you got?" you ask. "Oh, the same still. I've almost finished it! The poor man in it has finally been turned away from that woman, though they're both in love," she replies. "But from what you've told me, she's not exactly... the best person in the world?" you ask. "I guess not. Maybe I am into a little bit of dark fiction then, hm?" Mary-Beth questions with a soft laugh, finally opening her book to pick up from where she left off. "Maybe-" you begin to speak, but the sound of shouting draws your attention back to camp. You and Mary-Beth peer over your shoulders to watch the commotion in the distance. Ugh. It's Micah again, screaming at Bill for being so kind to the poor dog Jack had found, Cain. He's hollering away, something about not being soft on strays, that they'll only follow you around for food, whatever. You try to hold in your laughter when Micah does the last thing you'd expect, literally barking at Bill before storming off. "That man sure is evil," Mary-Beth comments. "I still ain't sure why Dutch allows him to follow us around, a bit like Cain really," she frowns, turning her gaze away. "He is, funny that he can't see just how much of a dog he is," you laugh along, returning your focus back to your book. "Has he bothered you again recently?" she questions, knowing that your last run-in with him was only a few days ago. "No, he ain't spoke to me, he ain't even looked at me." "Good, probably because he's still got that black eye you gave him," Mary-Beth replies, trying to hold back on her laughter. "Well, he did deserve it." Micah had pestered you a few days ago, stirring up some shit simply because he was bored. You were sat by yourself in camp, playing a solo game of solitaire whilst the wind was quiet, your cards not blowing away for once. He waltzed over, as always, looking like he owned the place; he only acts that way because he sucks up to Dutch, a bit of a teachers' pet, though he's definitely never stepped foot in a school. "Hey," Micah says to you. Well, you were unsure if he was speaking to you as your head was down, focused on the cards, so Micah quickly snapped when you didn't reply. "I said hey. You deaf?" he asks, lightly tapping the back of your shoulder. You let out a long sigh as you roll your eyes and look up. "I didn't know you were speaking to me, Micah," you reply. "Well, who else would I be speaking to, doll? There ain't anyone else around here," Micah says with a laugh, waving his hands about to gesture that nobody was nearby. "I can see that now," you sigh. You begin to put your cards away, knowing that if Micah's here then there's no way you'll be able to play this game in peace. Whatever, you were stumped anyway, considering calling this game quits, and Micahs appearance had encouraged you to do so. "What're you doing?" Micah questions. "I was playing solitaire," you reply, shuffling the cards back together and returning them to their container, an old mints tin that you found fits the cards much better than their old paper box. "And why have you packed up, hm? Is it 'cause I'm here?" Micah asks, knowing the answer. "It is," you say as you stand and put the tin in your pocket, beginning to walk off. The last person you ever want to talk to is Micah, but it seems he really wants to talk to you as he begins to follow you. "Where're you going? I ain't that bad. I know we don't exactly get along but you can't fault me for trying to right these wrongs with you," Micah begins, playing the white knight card as always, batting his lashes as if he hasn't made a handful of remarks towards you in the past, ensuring there's a thick barrier between the two of you. "I ain't interested in making friends with you, Micah. Now leave me be," you snap back, picking up the pace as you storm past Dutch's tent, hoping he'd pick up on the small commotion but his head is buried deep in his current Evelyn Miller book. "Such mean words coming from such a pretty face," Micah pouts, still on your trail, letting out his generic laugh. "Wouldn't you rather have friends than enemies?" "I'd rather have nothing to do with you, Micah," you tell him as you come to a halt, stopping in the dead center of camp. If Micah won't leave you alone then hopefully someone will step in, as their eyes had begun to peer over to the commotion; even Dutch has put his book down. "Easy there, sweetheart," Micah coos with his generic laugh. He goes to speak again but you're quick to cut him off. "I ain't your sweetheart, Micah. Quit calling me those names," you huff. "Of course, you ain't. I like a bit of fire in my women but you're just a bit too reckless for my taste," Micah tells you, his tone slowly turning to frustrated. He's quit the innocent act, lowering his hands as he had them raised as he followed you throughout the camp. If he can't win you over then he'll ensure you never even slightly consider him a friend, beginning to insult you to burn whatever was left of that bridge. "Good, I'd hate to be your taste. What an unlucky woman she must be for the likes of you to have eyes on her." Micah lets out another laugh as he takes a step closer to you, a little too close, and you're quick to cut him off before he can open his mouth. "Back off, Micah. Don't you try and get close to me," you order him. "Why not, hm? You scared someone is finally gonna put a woman like you back in her-" That's enough. Without hesitation, you clench your fist and swing for that vermin of a man, if you can even be kind enough to call him a man to begin with. You were aiming for his nose but hit his cheekbone instead, which is just as good as his eye had swollen up from the impact. Micah stumbled back and hit the ground with the most satisfying thud you'd ever heard, the sound still making you smile whenever you think about it. You didn't stick around much after that, burning the image of Micah lying on the floor clutching his eye into your memory before turning heel and marching off, wandering off into the trees so you could cool yourself off and devilishly admire your bruised knuckles. You refused to bandage them up, even after Charles had practically begged you, but you were eager to show off your trophy, even flaunting it at Micah from a distance whenever he came into your line of sight. His eyes hadn't met yours since, but you could feel his burning glare on you whenever you two were within ten feet of each other. You'd even overheard him attempting to bitch about you to Kieran, who simply nodded along to prevent himself from getting pulled into this mess. Needless to say, you and Micah do not get along. There's a handful of camp members that don't get along, but your burning hatred for each other seems to stand out the most. You're always eager to step in whenever Micahs attempting to chew someone's ear off, and he always gives you that same laugh as he attempts to mock you, but he often turns heel and storms away, calling you a bitch or whatever petty insult he has on his mind. But since that interaction, Micah has stayed well clear of you. Dutch probably told him to stop pestering you after you'd almost knocked his lights out, though you doubt that as Dutch ended up doing something that only seemed to make your 'friendship' worse. ----------- Another day, another dollar, or whatever the civilized phrase is. It's a quote you've heard within towns and cities, something bosses drill into the minds of their workers to stop them from realizing that they're being used as workhorses for less than pennies. At least out here you can work on your own terms, your only boss is Dutch and he always ensures that everybody gets a fair cut. Why slave away in a factory when you can rob some folk that needs robbing and make a few hundred off them? Dutch has a heist planned for you today, one that he says needs a woman touch. Karen is the only other gunwoman in the camp but Dutch has told you that she's a little too reckless for the job. Dutch knows that Sadie is also a gunwoman but she's still in mourning, arguing with Pearson every so often, but she isn't ready to step up to that rank yet.  "And that's why I need you for this job. It's genric and old fashioned of us, but there's a payroll heading up into Rhodes and I was thinking you could play the damsel in distress, hunched over at the roadside, pouting sweetly as you ask them for a ride into town," Dutch tells you outside his tent, a week or so after your last run-in with Micah.  "And if they don't stop?" you question.  "Why would they not stop? A pretty lady such as yourself asking for a ride? When they're already heading that way? They must be some cold-hearted folk in order to turn down such a simple request," Dutch explains.  "What will you and the others be doing?"  "We'll be hiding nearby, waiting for that opportunity to rob them. Once you're on board then they should hand over the cash, I don't see why they'd want a poor innocent woman to be hurt. Hosea will be waiting in Rhodes to bring you back to camp, and you won't need your guns for the job. A kind, working woman such as yourself wouldn't carry them anyway," Dutch replies with a grin, stubbing out his cigar with the toe of his shoes.  The plan seems simple enough, and what have you got to lose? So, you agree to the heist, heading into your tent so you can change your appearance to look like the average working woman. You dress in a simple skirt and shirt, your hair neat and your makeup simple, just how the women in Rhodes dress.  Arthur gives you a ride to the location, your horse staying back at camp, as well as your guns. You feel a little uneasy heading out of camp without them, but the boys are hiding behind what's left of a wall nearby. You overheard Arthur protesting with Dutch, saying they shouldn't be robbing folk so close to camp, but Dutch assured them that this would be fine.  Dutch has brought along Arthur and Lenny, and unfortunately, Micah, who still hasn't spoken a word to you, but his eye is now unfortunately better. Dutch didn't even mention to you that Micah would be coming along, seeing as your paths weren't meant to cross. This was meant to be a simple holdup job after all, only this gang seems to be cursed as things always go wrong.  You're walking along the road, acting as if you're exhausted. The sound of a wagon approaching can be heard, and you peer over your shoulder to see it coming into view. You begin to wave your arms, signaling for them to stop, and thankfully, they do.  "Are you alright, Miss?" one of the men questions, the one driving the wagon. There are two more men on horseback behind them, not many guns for a wagon that's carrying payroll.  "I do apologize to ask such a request but my horse bucked me a while back, I'm only trying to head into town. Are you heading that way? Would you be able to give me a ride?" you question. You play out the usual body language, slouched shoulders, batting your lashes, and pouting your bottom lip. This is a mans world, after all, but you know exactly how to play the game. The driver and the shotgun speak to themselves quietly, clearly bickering about the fact that they're carrying payroll, but they eventually come to an agreement.  "You're welcome to climb on the back of one of the horses, though we can't let you on the wagon, Miss," he replies. Well, that's good enough, at least you're still somewhat of a hostage. "Oh, thank you! I really appreciate it!" you smile sweetly, heading over to the nearest hired gunmen and climbing on the back, loosely holding onto his shirt as you get comfortable on the horse's rear.  They return to their journey, barely making it a few meters down the road when one of those slimy Lemoyne Raiders appears from behind a boulder and attempts to hold them at gunpoint. Your eyes peer over to where the gang is hiding and thankfully, Dutch steps in, one gun pointed at the driver and the other at the rival gang member. You're still unsure on what Lemoyne Raiders are. Inbred? Wannabe military? Either way, they're stupid enough to fire without warning, and completely miss Dutch, though Dutch doesn't miss him. The plan goes to shit and you're caught in the middle of the gang war, your gang and the Lemoyne Raiders fighting each other, as well as the wagon.  The gunman that you were holding onto slouches over his saddle, a bullet ripping through his side, thankfully missing you. You think Arthur had shot him, but either way, you're pushing his body off and stealing his horse, riding out from the commotion. What help are you now without your guns? It's best that you run away and fast. As you near the camp, you notice a small group of white hats approaching round the bend - lawmen, so you decide to keep riding forward towards Braithwait Manor, dipping off into the trees before they can notice you. You'll find somewhere to hide out until nightfall, riding through the thick forest until you find a shack down south, close to Shady Belle, but far enough from the commotion so the law shouldn't tread down here.  The stolen horse is hitched by a tree and you're about to head inside, but the sound of hooves approaching startles you. You hide behind the tree, not providing much cover, but hopefully enough so you can decide how to approach the incoming stranger. If it's a lawman then you can simply burst into tears whilst saying that the horse bolted and you couldn't steer it up into Rhodes, and if it's a fellow gang member then you'll be fine. Well, it is a gang member, just you were hoping for anybody but Micah. He slows Baylock to a halt as you come into his line of sight, stepping out from behind the tree looking like an angry kitten.  "You alright?" Micah asks, swinging his leg over the saddle and hopping off his mount.  "Go away, go find somewhere else to hide. Shoo," you wave your hands at him, only making Micah laugh instead. "What's a matter? Can't I hide here with you?" he questions as he approaches you.  "No, you can't. Go bother someone else, you're the last person I'd ever want to hide from the law with," you huff. Micah isn't budging, he continues to approach you until he's stood in front of you, grinning from ear to ear as he lets out that awful chuckle of his.  "You don't mean that. Besides, how're you gonna defend yourself without your guns, huh?" Micah questions, resting his hands on his gunbelt. "Well, you know that I can swing a punch, can't you, Micah?" you tease, giving him a smug smile which wipes the grin off his face, turning into a frown.  "And here I was just tryna look out for you. Nasty thing, aren't you?" Micah spits.  "I am, and I ain't welcoming to you, Micah," you huff again, resting your hands on your hips.  "Now, I'm gettin' real sick of the way you talk to me, girl. I ain't been nothin' but nice to you," Micah tuts, taking another step towards you. He's pressed up far too close to your chest, puffing his own out as his icy blue eyes scowl into yours. "You may be a big girl in the eyes of Dutch, but you ain't to me."  "I don't care, Micah. I don't need your approval, nor your company, so scram!"  This time, Micah goes for you, reaching out to grip ahold of your arm. He takes a firm grasp of you but before you can find out what he was planning on doing, you're pushing him away, shoving him back by the chest. He stumbles backwards but doesn't slump to the ground, catching his own fall as he glares at you. His death glare makes your face turn sour and you begin to foresee that one of you isn't going to make it back to camp. Micah lunges for you again, grabbing onto your shoulders as he begins to try and tackle you to the ground. You manage to shove him off and land a punch to the same cheekbone, only it's not enough to stop him. He continues to fight you, eventually managing to shove you to the floor. He tries to climb onto you, attempting to pin you to the ground but you land a swift kick to his baby balls. He lets out a choke as his body goes limp and you jump at the opportunity to shove him onto his back, pinning him down instead.  Micah attempts to grab onto you but you're quick, taking his own knife from its holster and pinning it beneath Micahs chin. He stops, freezing up and removing his hands from you, lying in the dirt with his swollen eye locked onto yours. There's silence, no words spoken from either of you, just heavy panting and the sound of the trees rustling. Micah licks his lips, tasting the blood that has trailed down from his nose, and eventually speaks.  "Go on, girl. Do it," he tells you, his Adam's apple bouncing against the blade as he speaks. You don't reply, so Micah jumps down your throat again. "I said do it! Show me what a big girl you are," he says with a laugh. "If I am to kill you then I'd rather do it with my bare hands," you spit at him, pressing the knife sharply on his neck. From the way Micah attempts to flinch back, you're certain you've managed to cut him. Good, he deserves it.  "Do it then. Go on, get rid of me already. Just do everyone a favour," Micah replies, his hands raising yet again, doing that generic innocent pose even as he has a knife held to his throat. As much as you'd love to, you know the consequences for killing other camp members. You could say he died in combat but Dutch knows that Micah can take on a bunch of Lemoyne Raiders with his eyes closed. Plus, it's far too suspicious for you to be the one breaking the 'bad' news. But you might as well scare some sense into Micah, maybe choke him unconscious then bail back to camp before he can wake. Hopefully, he'll finally get it into his thick skull to stay away from you, though you doubt it, but at least you'll have fun.  You remove Micahs own knife from his neck, stabbing it into the earth beside his head. He watches you with wide eyes, attempting to look at his knife but you grip onto his throat. You know how to choke someone to death, and you know how to choke someone unconscious, so you go for the second option and tighten your grip under his jawline, avoiding his windpipe so that he doesn't stop breathing.  He lets out a choked exhale as you begin jabbing your fingers into his throat, pushing more than hard enough to eventually knock his lights out. You know you look a mess, covered in dirt with scruffed up hair, a glare on your face that could easily kill a man; Micah looks up at you through half-lidded eyes, keeping his gaze locked onto yours as he attempts to breathe. You can hear the pressure on his throat with every breath, his lips remaining parted, blood still trickling from his nose, and his eye swelling up more by the second. His clothes are just as dirty as yours, his hat has fallen off his head a long time ago, his white pants are almost brown from rolling in the dirt, and his red shirt is missing a few buttons from where you've grabbed him.  Micahs parted lips quickly turn into a grin as his eyes begin to fall shut. You've never seen him pull a face like this, but he looks... pleasurable. He somehow has enough energy to reach up and grip onto the waistband of your skirt, trailing his fingertips along the band before settling each hand firmly on your hips. He's... enjoying this, isn't he? Your thoughts are confirmed when Micah opens his eyes again; his pupils are blown, wide and full of lust, gazing up at you like a piece of meat, ready to pounce on you (if he could.) You want to feel sick. Why don't you feel sick? Why isn't your stomach turning at the sight of Micah taking pleasure in your attempt to kill him? You push down harder on his neck, wishing you were gripping onto his windpipe instead. His smile eventually fades away, his eyes rolling shut as he lets out slower muffled breaths. His grip on your hips falls limp and you know he's finally unconscious.  This was meant to be the part where you run, heading back to camp before he can wake, praying he never even looks at you ever again. But you remove your hand from his throat, noticing how his body twitches as he begins to breaths properly again, and using the same hand that you just choked him with, you land a harsh slap right across his face. It's loud and sharp enough that it echoes throughout the forest, startling the horses and scaring a few birds away. You instantly regret your decision, your hand throbbing from how hard you slapped him, but the way Micah jolts awake gives you a sickly satisfaction.  He begins coughing, propping himself up on his elbows as he attempts to catch his breath. You don't move off him, sitting back on your knees, his legs beneath yours, watching in delight as he returns to the conscious word. Micah lies back down, his deep breaths eventually turning into a chuckle as his eyes meet yours.  "I knew you were just like me," Micah says with a sniff, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His nose is still bleeding, turning his moustache red, and now his cheek as he's smeared his own blood across his face. "I knew you were sick..." he laughs.  "I ain't sick, Micah," you frown.  "If you ain't then you won't enjoy this-"  Micah somehow has enough energy to flip your bodies over, pinning you down to the ground, narrowly missing his knife that is still jabbed into the dirt. You attempt to push him off, trying to kick him in the balls again but he's pinned you down as well as you had pinned him down. He does exactly what you feared he'd do, wrapping his own rough hand around your neck, pressing on those spots under your jawline that you unfortunately enjoy.  You try and fight it, attempting to gulp down air, attempting to push him off. But the more you fight him, the more he holds you down, and the more you find yourself enjoying it.  "Give in to it, sweetheart. Just let it happen," he tells you, the words that you didn't want to hear, but only because they're sickly yet tempting.  Micah adjusts his grip and finally hits the nail in the coffin, your mind turning cloudy, the blood pulsating through your brain. That feeling in your stomach begins to burn, trailing down your body and making your pussy clench. You hate this man so much, yet you're allowing him to do this to you. "Atta girl," Micah praises you as you stop fighting him, letting your eyes shut and your mouth part.  You're weak enough for Micah to shift his weight, parting your thighs with his knees and sitting between them after he bunches your skirt up. One hand remains on your neck whilst the under sneaks underneath your waist, pulling your hips up onto his knees. His crotch pushes against yours, his hand trailing over your clothed thigh, moving up to your knee as he adjusts your legs so they're wrapped around his waist. For some reason, you cross your ankles, only encouraging him to grind his crotch against yours, rutting his hard-on against your pussy.  The mewl that escapes your lips is definitely accidental, but Micah tilts his head up to let out a hum of approval as he watches the colour continue to drain from your face. "Such a pretty sound coming from that pretty face of yours. You're goin' pale tho, darlin'. Least you ain't still spittin' venom at me," Micah smirks. The blood from his nose drips down onto your own face, painting your cheek, and the sight of his blood on you makes his pupils turn wide again, licking his lips as he finally removes his hand from your throat.  You gasp, gulping down air, letting out a few coughs as you manage to fill your lungs back up. Micah barely gives you enough time to come back to reality before he's crashing his lips against yours, pinning your hands on either side of your head, grinding his crotch down hard against yours. You let out a whimper as he manages to brush his crotch perfectly against your clit, making him chuckle against your lips as he kisses you. Are you kissing him back? Unfortunately so, but only because the taste of his blood on his lips is making your arousal grow, and he's grinding against you far too perfectly to ignore.  You eventually lap away at his blood, his nosebleed finally coming to a halt, and the feeling of his prickly moustache becomes more and more prominent. It's far too annoying for you to make out with him and ignore it, and it eventually irritates you to a point that you break the kiss.  "What'cha stopping for?" Micah pouts, halting his grinding for the moment. "Your 'stache is too long, it's itchy," you tell him.  "Well, I'll make sure it's trimmed for next time," Micah replies as he rolls his eyes. "There ain't gonna be a next time, Micah," you scowl back.  "Oh, that so?" Micah chuckles, doubting your claim. "Well, I'll just have to make this worthwhile," he informs you.  Micah moves his hands off your wrists, sitting up on his knees and pulling his knife out of the ground. He wipes the dirt off on his jeans then grips onto your undergarments, pulling the fabric away from your skin so he can slice down the crotch, ripping apart the garment and leaving a large hole right in the middle of them. "Micah!" you snap as you sit up on your elbows. "I'll buy you a new pair," Micah monotonously replies, a large lack of sympathy in his voice. You could have sworn he rolled his eyes as well. He holsters his knife and rips apart the hole even more, almost ripping the garment in two, exposing your pussy for his pleasure. Micah hums in appreciation as he gazes at the sight, pushing your thighs apart as he dips his head down and spits onto your folds. You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it, and Micah picks up on the glisten in your eyes as he straightens his back up and begins to unfasten his pants, leaving his gunbelt on the ground beside you.  Micah pulls out his cock, an average looking one, rock hard and flushed pink at the tip. You're surprised that his pubes are neatly trimmed, just as dirty blonde as his hair, but he keeps his pubes neater for whatever reason. He ruts his cock over your folds, slicking himself up with his spit and your juices; to say you aren't wet is also a lie, you've been soaking the second he put his hand around your throat.  Micah finally pushes into you, slow and steady, letting out an "ooh" once he's fully sheathed inside of you. "It's always tighter if I don't finger you," he comments, licking his lips as he moves his hands underneath each knee, spreading your legs apart as far as he wants. Why are you allowing this man to fuck you? You're not sure, though you don't regret it, especially when he begins to thrust into you, surprising you with the way he rolls his hips, the tip of his cock hitting that spot inside of you with every thrust. If someone had told you this morning that you'd end up spending the evening with Micah Bell thrusting inside of you, after the two of you had had a fight and ended up aroused by it, then you probably would have punched them too after informing them that they're drunk. But here you are, allowing Micah to fuck you senseless, pounding you into the dirt as he lets out surprisingly pleasant sounds. "Shit!" you gasp as Micah shifts his weight, moving his hands off your knees to wrap around your waist. He pulls you up into his lap, lifting your ass off the floor and angling your body perfectly so he's directly hitting your g-spot with every roll of his hips. Micah's fucking you like a rabbit, fast and unforgiving, eager to make your walls tighten around him so he can fill you up with his cum.  Micah begins to bare his teeth, hissing through them as he pounds you. You're a moaning mess beneath him, not holding back on the volume of your moans as nobody is nearby, and your volume level is filling Micahs ego more and more by the second. "That's a good girl," he tells you, his hazy eyes meeting yours. "I always knew you'd be a good fuck, the feisty ones always are," he chuckles.  You roll your eyes at his comment, making him laugh instead. Ugh. That stupid laugh of his, the one he always drags out only because he knows it gets on everyone's nerves. You think fast, moving one hand back onto his throat to cut that dreadful sound out. His lips remain parted, slightly smiling as he continues to fuck you, enjoying that irritated glisten to your eyes. You tighten your grip on his throat, forcing a choked moan from Micahs lips. Micah's already hunched over you but you pull him down to your level, speaking right against his lips as you order him to "fuck me harder." "With pleasure," Micah manages to reply, gasping and straightening his back the second you let go of his throat. Micah keeps one arm underneath your waist, holding you firmly on his lap, whilst the other moves between your legs. His hand rests on your stomach, his thumb moving down to begin massaging your clit, flicking the bud in circles, his cock throbbing every time your muscles begin to shake. He's returned to letting out moans, followed by the occasional grunt through gritted teeth. You've seen Micah come undone before, you've seen that feral look in his eyes as he loses his cool and guns down an army of people. But this? This was a different look, just as feral but fueled by a mixture of lust and spite. Is he just using you for a fuck? Yes, but you're doing the same with him. And do you think you'll end up fucking him again? Possibly, but only if you can watch the life drain from his face again. It's sickeningly arousing, but Micah seems to enjoy it too. "You're gonna make me cum," you sigh, your thigh muscles beginning to shake, your eyes scrunching shut as your head rolls back in the dirt. "I know," Micah confidently replies, rubbing his thumb even firmer against your clit. What a cocky piece of shit, though you admire the confidence. You can't believe you're moaning his name as you orgasm, panting and shaking, wrapping your legs even tighter around Micahs waist as he pushes his cock deep inside of you and earns his own release. His hands grip onto your hips, his forehead eventually slumping on your chest as he pants and groans, filling you up with god knows how many months worth of cum, maybe longer, depending on whoever else has been stupid enough to sleep with him.  Micah eventually straightens his back and pulls out of you, letting your legs slip from around his waist as you untangle your body from his. He looks debauched, his hair and clothes scruffy and dirty, not to mention the dried blood smeared across his face and moustache. You're certain you look just as bad, spending your evening rolling about in the dirt with the man you hate the most. Hate? Or hated? as you somewhat like the sight of Micah like this. Maybe you could tolerate him under these terms, and only under these terms. You attempt to sort your appearance out as you stand up, stretching your legs, hearing your knees click after being bent for so long. Micah does the same as he pulls himself up, tucking his cock away then picking his hat up. He whistles for Baylock who had wandered off into the forest, probably not wanting to be around... that. The horse you'd stolen has managed to unhitch itself and disappear, and you honestly don't blame them, but that means the only way back is hitching a ride off Micah or walking for an hour.  "Looks like you're riding with me," Micah tells you. "I don't want to be seen trailing into camp with you, not when we both look like this," you tell him as he mounts Baylock.  "How's about I drop you off on the edge of camp then spend a few hours away? Would that make you happy?" Micah offers, holding out his hand at the same time.  "It would," you tell him, swatting his hand away and climbing up onto Baylock on your own terms. "So, you'll let me fuck you but won't even take my hand?" Micah chuckles as he clicks his tongue, letting Baylock go at a soft pace as you ride side-saddle.  "Yep, and don't forget that you owe me new underwear," you remind him.  "Oh, I won't forget to buy you some new panties, Miss. I'll buy you a whole set of lingerie if it means I get to cut it off your body," Micah teases but you know he's serious.  "If that's what you want," you reply with a shrug.  "You'd let me?" he questions, peering over his shoulder at you.  "I would," you reply. For some reason, you lick your thumb and attempt to wipe some of the dried blood from his cheek. Maybe the sight bothers you, but Micah doesn't seem to mind as he lets you clean him up, his eyes occasionally flicking onto the road.  "You wanna give me a kiss when you're done with cleaning me up?" Micah asks with a smirk.  "No," you frown, pushing his face away from yours. He laughs as he looks forward, returning his focus back to driving.  You and Micah don't speak another word on the short journey back, apart from a "thanks," from you as you slide off Baylock. He drops you on the edge of the forest, letting you walk down the path back into Clemens Point. You manage to sneak back into the camp; the only person who saw you in your state was Charles who simply said "I won't ask," when you gave him a look that said 'please don't.'  You feel much better once you've cleaned yourself up and got cozy in bed, though your body aches from fucking in the dirt, and you're almost certain you're going to have bruises around your neck by the time morning is here. But the fresh memory of having hate sex with Micah only seems to arouse you again; just like Micah said, you are sick, just as sick as him. But if this unspoken arrangement is a good way of letting out anger then why not continue it?  --------------- It's been a week since your accidental encounter with Micah. He's still not replaced your underwear, nor has he spoken a word to you, but you've picked up on those disgustingly arousing glances he sends you from across the camp. You've been tempted to chew his ear out about not paying you back yet, but he's not been in camp often, and when he has been in camp, it's been during the day and around others. The bastard knows what he's doing, and he definitely knows that you're still angry that he hasn't repaid you yet. You've been assigned guard duty tonight, doing lap after lap around the outskirts of the camp until 3am, which is when you can tap Bill awake and send him on his way to take over. Well, 3am is here and that's exactly what you're doing, prodding Bill awake and handing him the shotgun.  You somehow didn't notice that Baylock had appeared amongst the horses, but you do notice that distinct white hat on the edge of camp. Micahs stood on the beach, looking out at the water with his arms crossed, a cigarette between his fingers. Finally, the opportunity to chew his ear off. You stroll over, ensuring nobody else is awake, not wanting to question why you're eagerly approaching the man you despise.  "Micah," you greet as you stand next to him.  "There she is, just the girl I was looking for," Micah greets you as he exhales his cigarette smoke.  "You ain't looking for me, Micah. You're stood here having a smoke," you roll your eyes.  "I was hoping I would have fucked that attitude out of you. Seems I ain't fucked you hard enough," he says with a laugh. You peer over your shoulder, reminding yourself that nobody is awake, nor nearby, but you don't want to risk your chances. "We don't talk about that in camp, alright?" you threaten. "Fine, whatever you want," Micah shakes his head as he finishes off his cigarette, flicking it onto the floor and stomping it out. You're about to begin questioning him on your missing underwear but he begins to walk off, heading further along the beach.  "Where are you going?" you scowl as you follow him.  "Over here so I can sit down. Was gonna ask if you're joining me but it seems you are," he says with a laugh, leaning back against a large boulder. You frown at him but settle beside him, turning your attention to him again.  "I only came over here to ask you-"  "-s'on your bedroll," Micah tells you.  "What?" you question.  "That new underwear I promised, I've just placed it on your bedroll whilst you were on guard duty. Plus a little something extra to make up for how long you've waited for it," Micah answers, his eyes fixated on the water.  "Hmm..." you ponder, unsure if you believe him.  "What? Don't you trust me?" Micah questions as he finally looks over at you.  "Not at all," you scowl again.  "Well, you'll see that I'm telling the truth sooner or later. Go check now if you want, I don't care," he shrugs.  You stare at him again, trying to look for any signs of lying, but he gives you none; his nose doesn't twitch, his eyes stay glued to yours, he doesn't rub the back of his neck. Micah is probably telling the truth, knowing that you'll whack him over the head with a bottle next time you see him if he lies to you.  "See, told you I ain't lying," Micah snickers as he looks back out over the water. You don't reply, you just lean back against the rock and turn your attention to the landscape. Your brows remain furrowed, arms loosely crossed, enjoying the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, the moonlight only just providing enough light as you're far enough from camp.  A few minutes pass and Micah turns his attention back to you. "Why're you still here?" he bluntly asks.  "I ain't sure, I'm going to bed," you shrug. You begin to stand, barely getting off your ass when Micah reaches out and grabs you by the waist, pulling you back down onto his lap with a slight thud. "What do you want?" you snap, picking his hands off your waist in disgust, making him laugh at the sight.  "Just wanted to spend some quality time with my favourite camp member," he replies, though you're unsure if he's being sarcastic. "Well, you ain't my favourite," you huff.  "Always so feisty towards me, ain'tcha? What's wrong? You still hate me even after you let me fuck you?" Micah questions with a throaty laugh, grinning from ear to ear.  "I hate you even more now," you tell him, shuffling about on his lap until you're straddling him, one leg on either side of his hips, your chests almost touching.  "That'd explain why you've just got comfortable on my lap rather than walking away," Micah chuckles again, knowing he's damn well in the right. He slips his hat off his head, placing it on the ground beside him, not wanting it to get in the way. You let out a sigh as you roll your eyes. "Ain't I allowed to just take some attention from you, Micah?" you question, batting your lashes and removing the frown from your face.  "You're allowed to take whatever you want from me, s'long as I get something in return," Micah tells you as he wraps his arms loosely around your waist. "So it's agreed? That we'll just... enjoy this pity sex? But only because it lets off some steam," you place the offer down, finally trying to decide on this agreement.  "It is agreed, sweetheart. You can call it pity sex or whatever else you want, but maybe I'll just fuck you so good that you'll end up likin' me?" Micah chuckles, pulling you onto his lap more as he speaks to you in a husk tone. "I ain't your sweetheart and I ain't ever gonna like you, Micah Bell," you spit. "Sure you ain't," he grins. So, this is what it's come to. You're sleeping with the enemy, pity fucking the man you hate the most, allowing him to pry into your private life and between your legs just for a little bit of satisfaction. Do you care? No. Should you care? Probably. But you're getting pleasure, finally, after waiting for so long. The gang is always on the move, running from the law and whoever else is chasing you, depending on where you are and who you've pissed off. You've flirted with other gang members before but it's never escalated anywhere, so if sleeping with Micah means you'll finally stop humping your pillow every night then why not?  And maybe you can fuck some sense into him, maybe a bit of kindness of basic respect? You doubt it, but it'd be nice. A life where Micah isn't chaotic would be perfect, or one where he entirely didn't exist. But this is the way the world currently is, so you'll just have to make do with what you've got.  You're still going to bark back at him whenever he kicks up a fuss in camp. If anything, you're eager to put him in his place. Maybe you can punish him every time he steps out of line? Maybe this... enemies with benefits, or whatever you want to call it, could whip Micah into shape and prevent him from being such an annoyance towards everyone. Probably not, but you can still hope.  Micah tightens his grip around your waist as he lets out a pleasing hum, tugging you down to his level so he can kiss you. You're reluctant as his moustache was so irritating last time, but to your surprise, Micah has trimmed it to prevent the irritation, his 'stache brushing against your upper lip rather than prickling it. Micahs kisses are a lot more tender this time, not covered in blood and heavy breathing, not battling for dominance whilst both your minds are hazy from all that choking. Micah moves one hand up to entangle his fingers in your hair, cupping the back of your head.  Your lips soon slide open, your tongue greeting Micahs. He bites your bottom lip softly, letting the skin slowly slip from his grasp before kissing you again, earning himself a soft moan as you shuffle onto his lap more. Things are slowly turning heated, Micahs kisses getting sloppier yet firmer by the second, drawing more moans and whimpers from your lips as he continues to make out with you.  You pray that nobody has woken up, not wanting them to see... this. How would you attempt to explain this? Could you say you tripped and fell into Micah after not seeing him sat there, and you'd just accidentally kissed him on the way down? Could you say this way a new way of fighting, to show him what he's missing out on if he'd just be a good boy? Yeah, those excuses are rubbish. But you're sure you'd hear anyone approaching, not unless they're stealthy.  Micah moves his hands to your chest, unbuttoning your shirt, stopping at your lower ribs. He breaks the kiss so he can pull your shirt open, cupping each of your breasts and leaning his head into them. His mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking at it surprisingly gently, flicking his tongue over the nub, tenderly kissing it. His hand massages them, kneading them softly. Micah moves onto your other nipple, repeating the process, sucking on your tits as he lets out a satisfying hum.  "I ain't sure what my favourite part of you is, these things, or that nasty bite of yours," Micah says with a soft laugh between kisses. "Oh, you have such a way with words," you roll your eyes. "You know, I think we'd get along much better if you'd just tease me with these things in camp," Micah replies, returning his focus to your breasts. "I'll remember that in the future," you say, making a mental note. Maybe you could find a way to manipulate him? Using your womanly charm to tame this beast? It's a push but it's worth a try. He continues to suck at them, making your arousal grow, and you know he's getting aroused as you can feel it pressed against your thigh. Micah moves off your breasts and gently pulls your head down, enjoying another kiss, still tender, not the style you expected a man such as Micah to have.  Micah breaks the kiss, urging you off him. "Now, come on. Before I start thinkin' with my dick and fuck you right in the middle of camp. But you'd like that, wouldn't you, you whore?" he questions, buttoning up your shirt for you.  "You admit to thinking with your dick, yet I'm the whore?" you smirk, pointing out the flaw to his logic.  "Real smart, ain'tcha girl?" Micah mocks, shooing you off his lap once your shirt is fastened. Micah stands first, pulling you up afterward. His hand lingers for a little too long in yours, though you don't move your hand away either. He begins walking with you back to camp, readjusting his hat as he walks. Micah dips before you approach camp, not wanting to risk anybody latching onto your agreement. Thankfully, nobody is awake, but you head straight to your tent anyway. You fasten the tent flaps behind you, lighting your lantern, and begin getting ready for bed. You notice the tailor box on your cot and open it up, revealing the replacement underwear, as well as the 'little something extra' that Micah had promised you. It's a full set of lingerie, an expensive-looking set too, a frilly white chemise, corset, and stockings. The chemise is definitely that short for a reason; you wonder what Micah's planning, though he did say that he wanted to cut it off you. You hope to at least get some use out of it before he does that.

[thatpinkbetch]

Bkdk Fic Rec

I’ve been inspired to write a fic rec! This one goes out to you @lonely-rabbit

At like, the end of 2018 and the beginning of 2019 I stayed up until 4am every night reading fics, and because I’m such a loser, I made a word doc to keep track of all of them so I wouldn’t forget them.... I tried organizing it by length but it got messy cause I’m ridiculous and cluttered, so sorry! (I’ll save my own for the end alskdjflsdkfj gotta self promote you know). This is going to get...really long, so I’ll put it under a read more! Also, just a heads up, these are all on ao3, in case that’s important to anyone!

Disclaimer: Any fics with mature or explicit content I will add a bolded warning for, even if it’s only a little bit. Normally most fics will be tagged as such, but some fics that are rated as teen I’ve found to be more suggestive than some of those rated as mature, so I will try to point it out where it feels necessary, for anyone who wishes to avoid it.

Fics under 1k:

Illuminate by TheQueen (269 words)

Summary: Bakugou watches the first firework launch and fights to keep his face neutral

Very short, plot is about a case of amnesia, also very cute and well written for that length! Not angsty at all imo

sweaty hands holding secrets - shounentwink (563 words)

Summary: Someone said Midoriya holds secrets in his hair.

It’s not true: He holds it tightly in his hands. Bakugou’s seen it.

I really like this writer! You’ll see quite a bit of them in this post alkdsjfalskdjf

Fics 1k - 10k:

Many sunflowers later - Jeka (2395 words)

Summary: Scholar Midoriya Izuku comes back to the person he left behind after his journey through the kingdom, the mighty dragon clan leader Bakugou Katsuki.

Day 1 of Twin Stars Week 2020: Fantasy AU.

First of all, fantasy au!!! Second of all, jeka!!! (I need to read more of your stuff!!) Anyways, so cute, such lovely, pretty writing, wonderful story telling, and they’re so in love TT_TT

Boom Badoom Boom - warschach (3429 words)

Summary: Izuku's working the kissing booth at the school fair, it just so happens Katsuki has been crushing on him since the first grade.

“Did you—“ Izuku parted his mouth with no sound leaving it, “Did you pay?”

“Yea.”

“For a kiss?”

This one’s a little silly but I love it still. It’s got a “kids in the 80′s over summer vacation” vibe, I think. I love warschach! I should read more of their writing... They have SUCH good bakudeku content! *It’s rated teen but there’s some suggestive content, just a heads up!

Hopeless Ramen-tic - lalazee (7155 words)

Summary:  Midoriya is a cute guy who works at a ramen stall and Bakugou is thirsty as hell, but has to hide it by being an asshat. Another love story.

Ah, so good TT_TT so much sass, such good plot development and story telling for a simple concept *It’s rated as teen but again, it can be suggestive at times!

I’ll share this with you, so leave it behind - yabakuboi (3508 words)

Suammry: For the sake of the story, All Might is never in need of a successor, and, when Izuku saves Katsuki from the sludge monster, encourages young Midoriya down a different path. Thus, Katsuki and Izuku part ways after junior high, as Katsuki enters U.A. and the Midoriyas move overseas. It’s later that Katsuki realizes that there’s something missing, that he drove that something away.

Years after, Katsuki finds him in the last place he looks, in the cereal aisle at the local grocery store of their childhood neighborhood.

So soft, so sweet, so good if you just want to curl up in a comfy blanket and drink hot cocoa and feel warm and cozy and a little in love

The Secret Deku Box - yabakuboi (2241 words)

Summary: “Y’know, Bakugou never, ever talks about girls,” Kaminari says, his voice thoughtful.

“And I wonder why that is.” Ashido rolls her eyes.

“I’m just curious!” Kaminari whines. Kirishima drags the box out, unlabeled and unassuming, the lid not even fully clasped over the edges. “The guy has to— Whoa, what’s that?”

Kirishima realizes a little belatedly that this is a serious breach of privacy, and Bakugou will actually murder all of them. “Nothing!” he cries, attempting to shove it back under the bed, but Ashido snatches it away.

“Please be his porn stash!” Kaminari whispers as she whips the lid off.

Cute, funny, in canon, in character, and a must read I would say! 

daisy bunches and heather branches - halcyonwhispers (5862 words)

Summary:  izuku falls in love with the foul-mouthed tattoo artist next door.

Not another flower/tattoo shop au.... aldskjflaskdjfd Okay but punk!Bakugou is ALWAYS a smart move imo

the best part of me (is the worst I can give) - halcyonwhispers (5668)

Summary: Whole sentences usually make up people’s Words, but Katsuki got stuck with a name instead.

Izuku’s name.

I am such a sucker for soulmate aus when it comes to these boys TT_TT *There is some mature content, just a heads up!

Hard to Say - halcyonwhispers (8390 words)

Summary: Izuku is a Halfling, born after his faerie father spirited away his mom and then left her behind. Never quite fitting in with the humans or any of the supernatural beings in his small town, Izuku hoped that going to a diverse college in the big city will help him finally make friends.

Katsuki’s family has been powerful witches for generations, and he’s no different. Talented and a proclaimed genius to boot, he knew he shouldn’t waste his time on this dumbass (disgustingly cute) half-blood.

Or,

two idiots fall in love and don’t get that the other’s awkward cues are just a result of romantic tension.

I am ALSO a sucker for fantasy/mythical creatures au and I LOVED this one - Bakugou absolutely unable to handle how cute Midoriya is? Perfection - but it’s unfinished, and I don’t think it ever will be continued, unfortunately TT_TT

lots to unpack (throw away the whole suitcase) - shounentwink (4315 words)

Summary: “How’d you know?” Midoriya asks.

There’s a hunch to his shoulders that wasn’t there three hours ago. Freckled shoulders are kissed sunburnt and red: he looks like someone ran him over and left him like roadkill in the sunlight. Bakugou’s working with insurance today, but he could see the sparks of green lightning even from his elevated position in their shared agency. Midoriya’s holding his thumb, cracking it over and over — it looks like he’s rubbed it raw.

“Dunno,” Bakugou says. “Maybe you’re just easy to read, nerd.”

I love this one so much, it was one of the first ones I read, it’s so good, and it’s another that really affected how I view their relationship! Idk this one just hit for me

hang the moon from us (it’s a no from me) - shounentwink (1200 words)

Summary: Midoriya’s gonna get sick of Bakugou one of these days, and then the whole ruse will be over, and the balance of power will tilt beyond salvation, but that day isn’t today and it looks like Bakugou knows it.

What an asshole.

Once again, I’m a sucker for the fantasy au... But even more, the diction, the details, the imagery...it’s absolutely all stunning here. I wish I could write this pretty

In Which Bakugou Finds His One Tru Luv - Erina (5862 words) This is the first one of a series called The Misadventures of Explodo-kill Agency!

Summary:  Welcome to the Explodo-kill agency! We can destroy your buildings, crash your cars, and help you solve one of the seven mysteries in life: who is Bakugou Katsuki's mysterious boyfriend?!

I’ll admit I’ve only read the first three but by god they are the funniest fics I’ve ever read in my life. I see that Erina has added more since the last time I checked it out! Tbh I was only interested in reading the purely bakudeku ones... (My favorite was the second one!! SO funny and cute!)

i still do - raeryn (9646 words)

Summary:  He’s losing him to pieces, but Izuku still tries to make them count. In which a battle leaves Bakugou Katsuki with amnesia, and Izuku finds himself picking up the pieces.

So, this one makes me cry. TT_TT

One Thing Straight - winningshot (9899 words)

Summary: They totally aren't.

Hints of their relationship is found in all of their friends’ social media accounts, but majority of their fans still think that Katsuki and Izuku are in relationships with anybody but each other.

It was amusing up until it became sad.

Lmao it’s a little salty but I guess I can be too. This is a social media fic! There’s multiple ships in this one, too

A Demolition Boy & his Cryptid BF - kewltie (8472 words)

Summary: Bakugou of the Demolition Squad is famous for running one of the most popular Youtube channels on the web that regularly blow shit up and jumped off a perfectly good building for shit and giggles. He's also famous for his Cryptid BF™, never appearing on camera except for a few bodyshots and all information on him is kept locked up tighter than Fort Knox, therefore drawing all sort of attention and curiosity toward his mysterious boyfriend.

Deku from Deku Explains is a hopeless chatterbox who is known for uploading 20-30 minutes video that talked about his favorite shows and comics and have one of the most devoted following on Youtube. He also can't seem to shut up about his boyfriend Kacchan, who regularly make his presence on the channel as a disembodied voice.

They should theoretically have nothing in common except a shared platform to host their content and an army of fans with an endless curiosity and devotion to their Youtubers. Vidcon is where we lay our scene and the internet is about to get a rude wake up call.

Okay kewltie is SO GOOD and very creative! The formatting is phenomenal, it’s like you’re actually experiencing a social media melt down in real time lol

be my good luck charm - writedeku (6785 words)

Summary: See, the thing is, Midoriya Izuku had been born with a curse. It’s not a curse that’s particularly visible. He doesn’t have horns, or a tortured face, and it’s not the kind of silly curse like a friend of his had way down south in Diagnor, wherein the girl had been born without the ability to say the word duck. Midoriya Izuku is just extremely unlucky.

(Or the AU in which Izuku's the world's unluckiest travelling merchant, and Katsuki is someone who may be able to help him. For a price, that is.)

Oh I adore this one! It’s so cute and such a good narrative! Nice and warm, and Bakugou trying his damnedest to be suave, and it somehow working because Midoriya is just as flustered. *Another one rated as teen but some suggestive content.

Smells Like Victory - majjale (2377 words)

Summary: Bakugou takes two steps into the room and stops, clapping a hand over his nose. “Ugh, what stinks like Deku in here?”

"Good afternoon, Bakugou. That would be the amortentia."

I must admit, not a fan of HP, but majjale...TT_TT majjale writes these two boys so well. This one is really, really good!

Cherish Me - Justaperson1718 (2376 words)

Summary: “What?”

Izuku looked back down at his menu and flipped the page, a small smile on his face. “Nothing.”

Katsuki glared at Izuku from across the table. “If it was nothing then you wouldn’t be staring at me.”

“It’s just a little funny watching you try to look your best for our date when you always look great anyway,” Izuku explained. He wouldn’t look up from his menu while he spoke, but his words remained ingrained with confidence nevertheless. He considered what he was saying to be fact, and nothing else. “Even when you’re not trying in front of the cameras, it’s still hard to take my eyes off of you.”

This is a sequel to a fic that’ll be in the next section, because it’s longer, called Manage Me. Please read that one first before this one! (Not part of a series, but they’re the same story line)

Fascinating - Justaperson1718 (1556 words)

Summary: “I’m not staring at you,” Izuku replied, his eyes focused intently on Katsuki. He’s still wearing his pajamas, sitting on his knees in their shared bed. He was awake moments before Katsuki, and waited eagerly for the other to awake.

Katsuki glanced over his shoulder after his shirt was on and glared. “You’re fucking staring at me right now.”

Izuku shook his head, humming his disapproval quietly. “I’m watching you.”

“That’s the same damn thing,” Katsuki said while searching for a pair of pants in the dresser. “Your eyes are fixated on me like I’m your life’s fucking goal or some shit.”

“I just like watching you get dressed.” Izuku tilted his head to the side and smiled softly at Katsuki’s confused stare. “I know, it’s weird. But I like it.”

*There is a little bit of implied mature content, but overall, it’s just so sweet and intimate, and I just simply adore this one.

in a place once filled with gold - dorenamryn (9226 words)

Summary: It felt strange to remember such details, for they were things a friend should know, and as far as Katsuki was concerned, he and Deku hadn’t been friends in a very, very long time. He could admit, with reluctance, that they were on the path there, now, even though they would never make it. Katsuki would die before they could get the chance.

or: There is a garden growing in Katsuki’s lungs, and he is helpless to stop it.

“Hanahaki disease” okay, I can explain myself. Okay, I can’t. In any case, you got angst with a happy ending if that’s what you’re into!

Kaleidoscope - DPRenFTW (5141 words)

Summary: Izuku is a witch. He just needs to find his familiar. Enter a boy that is a wolf, and a wolf that is a boy - with wild red eyes and sharp smiles.

And Izuku thinks:

"Oh, it's him."

Just as beautiful and fascinating as the name implies! I seriously recommend for the beautiful writing, the gorgeous world, the mythical creatures au, and the lovely bakudeku romance!

Learning Curve - sensiblysilly (4222 words)

Summary: Deku and Katsuki’s first kiss goes rather differently than planned.

And Katsuki’s quickly learning that relationships can be unpredictable - especially when taking into account the variable that is Midoriya Izuku.

This really is just a careful handling of a teenage romance where perhaps one of them may have shit they’re still working through. It’s really sweet, and a careful study at boundaries and the building of a relationship. I actually stumbled across this while looking for another with the same name and ended up pleasantly surprised. Kacchan can has a little validation, as a treat.

4/20 is a national holiday - Ereri_Garbage (

Summary: Izuku is a drug dealer that doesn't really accept the fact he's a drug dealer, Katsuki is hot as hell as shouldn't be allowed a facebook.

Happy (Late) birthday Katsuki and happy (late) 4/20. I actually half assed an edit on this one so it took longer to post than I thought it would.

Uummmm lmao yes I have a sense of humor. ;ALDSKJFLSKDJF Okay, I say that, but this is not a crack fic, it’s a good story that I enjoy with good writing, and *it has mature, content, obviously for multiple reasons here. It’s rated as mature but there are borderline explicit moments imo. It’s a fun fic and funny, too! And, ngl, it really does remind me of college... But forget about me, the bakudeku is wonderful too of course :)

Drinking Watermelon - warschach (8906 words)

Summary: For whatever reason, maybe divine fate, Izuku turned and looked over his shoulder and waved to them.

Katsuki’s heart full on stopped right then, and his fingers forgot their duty on the rails, and his body neglected its job to keep Katsuki balanced.

Izuku’s summer sweet smile fell into concern as Katsuki went airborne and cracked his skull on the porch.

or Katsuki works as a camp counselor, and Izuku is a boy made of summer heat and sunlight.

Love it when people have Bakugou as absolutely enamored with Midoriya; it’s so good and true. Anyways this one makes me like summer camp story lines. It’s funny and also cute and great writing! *It’s got explicit content, just a heads up. Warschach stories just have this youthful 80′s vibe, I don’t know how else to explain it.

there are listed buildings - semiautomatichearts (3309)

Summary: Katsuki first sees colors bloom when he is only three years old. It is timid Izuku, hiding behind the cover of his mother's leg who looks upon him with wide eyes, and Katsuki's world explodes in shades of greens and pinks and blues, and he is so startled, he begins to cry.

His life is then on defined in color, in shades his peers can't see, by the forlorn, timid stare in Izuku's eyes that always lets off more than he is willing to tell. There is a schism driven between himself and his fated other, and Katsuki strives to be better than fate, better than what is defined for him. He is more than the written pages of a book, to be cracked open and read by the gods.

He wonders if it is possible for colors to bloom for someone who will never love you back.

Ah...soulmates :) So interesting how bakudeku fits into soulmate aus like this one when they’ve known each other as kids! And when they’ve had this complex push and pull thing going on all their lives! The writing is beautiful, and so is the story!

Promise Ring - bkdkwritingsdump (3579)

Summary:  The midwest in the 1950′s is no place for boys who like kissing boys: something Izuku and Katsuki know all too well growing up there. However, the undeniable bond between the nervous science geek and the aloof delinquent will still find a way to blossom in such a desert.

Cute, sweet, makes my gay heart ache. Longing not just for the one you love, but just to feel right loving them. Very pretty story line, lovely story telling!

Fics 10k - 30k:

Fishy - warschach (19417 words)

Summary: Izuku’s convinced his hot co-worker/neighbor, Katsuki, is a mermaid-or merman- you gotta consider genders even with mythical creatures- and plans to prove it.

(or this is kinda like the show ‘Monster Quest’, except Izuku actually finds said monster, falls in love, and have sexy times.)

Another warschach! I love this one, I love how they write bakudeku, particularly as college students, their stories (at least, the ones that I’ve read) always feel so warm, like a summer’s day, but not a lazy one, one that’s playful? If that makes sense? *This one is explicit, another heads up!

Manage Me - Justaperson1718 (10756 words)

Summary: Izuku caught himself moving forward, his head tilted somewhat to the side, and his eyes shot wide open. His gaze met Katsuki’s half-lidded eyes now that he was no longer in a dreamlike state, and seeing the way Katsuki was looking at him—waiting for him—made him realize Katsuki would’ve let him do it. He might have even wanted him to do it.

“You’re both doing fabulous!” the photographer called out to them, packing his camera into his bag and getting ready to leave. “I just got word that what we have now should be good, so we’ll stop there. Thank you for your time! Lock the door on your way out after you change.”

The pair stayed frozen in place, with Izuku’s arms around Katsuki’s neck and Katsuki’s hands resting on Izuku’s waist, while the photographer and his supervisor left.

“Kacchan,” Izuku cooed once they were gone. “Did you want to…?”

Love the story, love the bakudeku! Very, very good bakudeku TT_TT very sweet *There is some mature content in here as well

point to a map (we’ve been there) - cosmicfuss (10589 words)

Summary: Serendipity / sĕr″ən-dĭp′ĭ-tē Serendipity is the occurrence of an unplanned fortunate discovery. Two men find themselves on a subway, hot coffee on one while the other is in the middle of a screaming match. After that they can't seem to stop finding each other, no matter how far they go.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; this fic owns my entire soul. I love the story, the ease of their relationship, just how lovely they are together. It’s another kind of nice, fluffy fic you’d read on a bad day where you come home and curl up in a blanket and listen to a ten hour video of thunderstorm white noise. *Again, some more mature content in here

Partners - tsukithewolf (13619 words) Another series! Two parts to this one this time

Summary: It is said that in Musutafu there is a charm that one can buy at a temple that will lead you to your destined partner. They say that if the charm works, you would be able to follow the red string of fate to the person you were meant to be with. And if the person returns your feelings, they would be able to see the string as well, proving that both were meant to be.

Three-year-old Katsuki and Izuku misunderstand what the word "partner" means and discover the charm and the rumor behind it is not only true, but more than expected.

Gets a little heavy, depression, bullying, suicidal thoughts, etc. But it must get worse before it gets better, that kind of thing. I also just adore the second part (called Bond) - maybe because it’s much fluffier, what about it?

Learning Curve - iknewaman (10304 words)

Summary: “Izuku.” Uraraka repeats as she motions at the person stood next to her. Green curls, average height, and, well. Up close, not such a bad smile. Uraraka points a thumb at Bakugou and enunciates slowly, “This is Bakugou. He can speak sign language too.”

Wait. Sign language?

The stranger— well, Izuku— looks at him with a raised brow. Their free hand lifts up as they make a slight motion of the hand.‘

Really?’

*

Bored out of his mind at a house party one night Bakugou is introduced to Izuku, a deaf student who offers to help teach Bakugou sign language in exchange for a favour-- or well, is prompted into asking for a favour.

Ah, I really want to explain this one a little bit? I’d never been into fanfiction ever, only really getting into it with these boys. This was the second one I read, I remember, and it caught me off guard, and it intrigued me. It really surprised me as to what fanfiction could be. Ngl I had biased perceptions of fanfics - I used to be one of those people who thought fanfiction could never be good writing - and this one slapped me in the face with it’s subtle beauty and creative story and heart melting capabilities, and very, very real relationship and growth. Anyways it’s so cute how happy Deku is to teach Kacchan sign language TT_TT Make sure to read the tags!

The Keeper and the Sun God’s Heir - SurelyHeavenWaits (12746 words)

Summary:  The Titans' have stolen something important from Izuku, heir of the Sun God, and he wants it back.

This one, this one, this one, this one, this one, this one, this one, this one this one- Oh my god this one. Okay so what, I was a Percy Jackson kid, what about it? I love the mythical aus, particularly the god ones. But beyond that, the writing is so beautiful, just like the world, and the imagery. The bakudeku...absolutely stunning. The story itself? Incredible. Cannot recommend more. *There is explicit content in this, though I will say, it’s all in the last chapter, and all of the story is in the first two chapters. There’s also a second part as it’s a series and it’s short but it’s cute and sweet TT_TT

seven days - aaAAAaaahhhhHHHHH (10094 words)

Summary: There’s something about the green haired boy, an aura that just drew Katsuki in before he even knew his name.

[Sometimes your mind forgets, but your heart remembers]

Heed my warning: DON’T read this in front of other people. I bawl every time I read this one TT_TT I know I said I don’t like angst but AJLSKDFJALSKDFJ it has a hopeful ending! I mean yeah you’re gonna cry but...hope? :’) (that username really says it all tbh)

Fics 30k+

Notice me, nerd - useless_donut (40000 words)

Summary: Bakugou is in love with Midoriya. He doesn’t hide it, in fact it’s so painfully obvious that the entire class of 3-A has him figured out in a matter of months (days, in some cases). Too bad Midoriya is the most oblivious motherfucker out there, and Bakugou is too damn stubborn to actually ask him out.

Will the class of 3-A survive the sexual tension? Who will snap first? Someone put Bakugou out of his misery, please, before everyone else dies of second-hand embarrassment.

(a love story as witnessed by the class of 3-A)

Love the idea of Bakugou being brazen and brash, cause yeah, he is. So fucking funny though how that translates to him flirting. Gotta say, thought I was gonna cringe, but his “I’m gay af” outfit really ended up being A Look. Love the mutual pining, it really is strong in this one. *Okay, mature content in this one lads.

While You Were Sleeping - Belkacaramelka (71197 words)

Summary: The one where quirkless fanboy Midoriya Izuku rescues Pro Hero Todoroki Shouto, gets mistaken as his fiancé while he is in a coma, and gets caught up in the most unlikely fake engagement... until his childhood enemy and Todoroki's classmate Bakugou Katsuki tries to catch him out, and they both end up discovering a lot more about each other than they'd expected.

Quirkless AU based on the film; endgame BakuDeku. -- Katsuki didn’t know when the change had happened: how he had gone from asking why Todoroki chose Deku of all people, to wondering why it was Todoroki that Deku chose. Troublesome Deku, who cooed like an idiot at cats, tripped at a random catcall and sang badly. Who, despite everything, proved that it wasn’t the quirk that defined a person. Deku, who was too much, not his, and undeniably off limits to begin with.

Update: Epilogue added

*This one has mature content. If you can, please, for the love of god, read this fic. It’s like, tied with my favorite bkdk fic perhaps ever. It’s based on the movie of the same title, a nineties romcom with Sandra Bullock, but Belkacaramelka has so effortlessly made it into it’s own story, fit it so perfectly inside of the bnha world. I definitely stayed up until 6:30am reading this one. It’s got such good badass Midoriya, who is also sweet, and really really good reconciliation between bakudeku.

All Gifted - fitzefitcher (39129 words)

Summary: The thing about gifts is that they're meant to be given, they're meant to be shared; so Izuku will take his gifts, so freely given to him, and share them with all he holds dear.

Izuku is born without any gifts, as his kind often are, to a witch mother and salamander father, on one sweltering night in July.

This one is unfinished...and I highly doubt it will ever be. But what has been written is incredible. Once again, I’m a sucker for the magic/mythical creatures aus. But the relationship is great! The characterization is great! The found family trope that was building up is great!

under a hollow sun - umbrage (40572 words)

Summary: Midoriya is cursed with emptiness.

Misfortune leads him to a man of ancient magic and endless rage.

To stop an unfathomable evil, their mismatched halves must become whole.

Uuuggghhhh this was so good! I don’t think it’s going to be finished either :( Once again, fantasy au, more amazing writing, on point characterization, incredible pacing, makes you hungry for more story.

all the savage soul requires - majjale (58032 words)

Summary: Bakugou seems to have exhausted his patience for words and no longer acknowledges that Midoriya exists, so Midoriya crosses his legs, stares down at his hands limned in firelight, and makes a list of things he knows.

One. His name is Midoriya Izuku.

Two. He is a Godmarked, future god of life, heir to the divine throne.

Three. The gods have been fighting Death for eons, and now he's coming for recompense with everything he’s got.

This is majjale, so of course, the writing is more than beautiful; it’s absolutely breathtaking. This may be my favorite fic ever - unfortunately I don’t think it will ever be finished either TT_TT There’s the gods/fantasy au, which you know by now I love. But the characterization of our two boys is absolutely perfect, and I mean that as literally as possible. And the story being crafted between the two, the memory loss, the obvious history muddled by it all, it was so dense, and the PINING, so incredibly written, flowing so naturally. It wasn’t even close to being done, but it was wonderful, still is wonderful. 

My Writing: (You can skip this if you hate shameless self promotion)

You’re too damn flicking cute (1815 words)

Summary:  Bakugou is certain his shitty boyfriend is instigating kisses. Maybe it doesn't help that he keeps giving them away like it's a damn going out of business sale, but the stupid nerd is too fucking cute. Either way, like everything else, this is a competition, and he's going to win it.

Please don’t read this unless you’re going to the dentist afterwards! I’ve been told it’s so sweet it’ll give you instant cavities >_>;;;;

Bakugou Katsuki, you smooth motherfucker (10118 words)

Summary: Everyone around him knows that Bakugou Katsuki has a very special way with words. To the untrained ear he is loud and crass; to those that speak Kacchan, he is caring and inspiring. Yet there are rare moments, moments so fleeting you blink and you miss them, where Bakugou’s words pierce straight through Midoriya’s chest, and surprise everyone around him.

Goddammit, if only he would say them to Midoriya’s face.

Or, the five times Bakugou said something nice about Midoriya, and the one time he said something kind to him (but that was too long of a title).

I think most would consider this my best published fic; it’s one of those snapshot fics, “the five times where x did this, and the one time where they didn’t.” The recurring comment I get on this one is both of them being super in character, so I think that’s it’s defining characteristic! Bakugou and Midoriya have never known a life without the other, and in a perfect world, they never will.

Here, let me fix that (11247 words)

Summary: Bakugou honestly never thought he’d see Deku ever again. And now that they were together in this tiny compartment, alone for the next two and a half minutes, he had no clue what to say. He’d just apologized, right? So perhaps he could leave it at that and carry on with the original plan to never see the green-haired man that reminded him of dense forests, late night adventures, and tear-stained faces, ever again.

Ha! Who is he kidding? These bitches are soulmates.

I’ve gotten some critiques on this one, so sorry in advance if it’s not to your liking! Basically, what if Midoriya never got his quirk? Obviously, life would find a way to put them together because, as previously stated, these bitches are soulmates.

Plenty of Time (16654 words)

Summary: Bakugou found what little sleep he got restless and filled with nightmares that he forgot the second he opened his eyes. Tonight was the first time in a long time where he just had a normal dream - and it happened to be about Deku.

How fucking typical.

In other words, two dorks realize they have feelings for each other but don't know what to do about said feelings.

Ah, my first fic. Very simple, boys being boys, kinda like a slow burn? Idk how to explain this one, just boys figuring out their feelings and trying to figure out what to do about them. Been told these two are a little stupid but I think that’s valid.

We’re all time bombs waiting to explode (39223 words)

Summary: We have now entered the slipstream of time, into an alternate dimension where it neither is, nor isn’t, the 80’s. Two teenagers, burdened with the weight of adolescence in the modern world, find themselves struggling side by side, in part because of each other.

Bakugou, the most popular boy in school, has everything he could possibly want; status, power, and an unbreakable will. Having been dragged along behind him all the way to the top, Midoriya can’t help but wonder how (and why) he ended up standing beside his childhood friend-turned bully-turned friend again, weighed down by their complicated past and present. As the tension between them grows every day, and the arrival of a new, pretty face causes it to peak, it won’t be long before something - or someone - snaps.

I am...very bad at titles, and summaries apparently. This was my Heathers au, but it very quickly diverges from the original (I don’t do sad endings....) *This one has mature content, including implied sexual activity, drug use, and underage drinking, along with other heavy topics; please read the tags! Though tbh Midoriya is 17 for a couple weeks before it hits his birthday halfway through, so keep that in mind I guess? I kind of went heavy with this one, but I think the pay off was immense. This is the one with the most amount of comments stating it’s their favorite bkdk fic ever (and I cry). It’s a rough start, with a rough journey, but so is bakudeku! There’s a lot of petty drama, and then all of a sudden it’s Not That Petty and very much Far Too Real. Many have cried reading the ending, I cried writing it. My sister says it’s her favorite of mine. Now, I did kind of push this out without polishing it so much because I was losing my willpower, so if it feels lacking, that’s one hundred percent my fault.

Okay that was a lot! It took me a couple days...I hope I wasn’t too annoying with all my opinions! Please have a nice day. and enjoy some good reads, even if they aren’t the ones in this post!

[aleximustd13]

I'm a fucking wreck rn I haven't been sleeping for a week and I'm getting some rest from the bullshit factory that is my brain only now, but I just wanted to say that last year for me has been saved by tumblr and all the friends I made along the way.

Before you go below the cut, a special thanks goes to the Bee Movie Anon, who, rightfully, I can't tag so I have to say it here in the hope that they'll see it. Your hunger for chaos made me feel a lot of emotions, and I'd have never in any time or space thought that the Bee Movie would be such a prominent part of my life as it is now thanks (read it with a note of sarcasm) to you. Thank you for providing us an infinite amount of both entertainment and suffering, hell, some of the friends I made were because of YOU. I'm still not sure what was your drive to go and start this absurd crusade for the bee movie in the 80s metal fandom, but I don't know, I don't think bee so, I'm not gonna question your ways.

@arnold-layne being the first in line, you kept me sane somehow in the first phases of quarantine and dedicated a lot your time to talk with me and helped me enormously with creativity. If it wasn't for you, that Cyberpunk Comic That Is Kinda Inspired By The Crüe and Shout At The Devil would've been already down the drain. I would've given up probably, because I didn't know how to exted the concept and have an actual plot. A dream that I've been having for literal years wouldn't even have such cool characters with a rich storyline if it wasn't for you. I know I kinda left it after a month or so of intense brainstorming with you, I was literally drained at that point both physically and mentally, but oh boy I haven't forgot about the characters that WE created. How could I after all? Russ being the wreck of a tormented junkie protagonist that he is, Dylan the happy-go-lucky fuck up that seems to do nothing right but with the best intentions, Frankie the runaway sassy and wary androgynous teenager whose gender is a mystery even to themselves, and the epitome of the found family trope, ex gov agent part Japanese, part Russian, part cyborg Vik, whose story isn't still clear yet but we'll give him a very good one, eventually.

You gave me the curiosity to read fanfiction again after literally NINE YEARS of being distant from that part of the fandom and honestly I don't regret it one bit. In fact, I discovered literally my favorite writer in fanfiction. That is you, Arnold. I don't care how frequently you write, I don't care if sometimes you can't do your best. I'll always be there waiting for the next chapter and I'll always think that your art is sublime. I'll have to admit, I don't read your works as often as I should. But it's because I love them so much that I want to always save for later. It's like a drug, or a delicious cake that you want it to last as long as possible so you can enjoy it for much longer (I should be reading your fic more often either way tho like, at least so I can make more art for it. I'll make sure to change that this year and give you the recognition you deserve 🖤).

Everytime I make art, everytime I make a post, I always wait for your name to pop in my notifs. And fuck if I'm happy when I see it, and I rush to read your tags and it always makes my day. Like seriously, you mean so much to me and I admire how you can still be any amount of sane with all you're going through. You're strong as hell, keep going. 🖤

@i-dont-like-rice dude, how can I explain it. You're my best bud here. You're my chaotic sibling from another mother. The other braindead I share the single braincell I have with. The Nikki to my Tommy. Or the Tommy to my Nikki, I'm still not sure which of us is which (I guess I'm Nikki and you're Tommy? lmao it's ironic how even them are an italian and a balkanian) but you get the point. Every interaction we have, I laugh my ass off till my whole body hurts every time. I think I worried my mother and annoyed my sister at least a couple times for bursting out laughing for five minutes straight out of the blue, especially if it was late at night, and all the times, I swear it was because of you. You are as chaotic as you are kind, and it's always so disarming to see you worry or take care of others when you are definitely in a worse situation. Please, be more selfish, goddammit. For your own sake. And be more confident of your art. Draw shit and post it. Who cares if it's not perfect and you hate it and you don't want anybody to see it, it's tumblr, nobody will ever reblog it or give you the well deserved recognition anyway! So it's worth a try isn't it?

@no-stone-no-bone seriously, I'm so glad I met you. You're like the third element of chaos that holds me and Andi together. All three of us are literally unstoppable. You're extremely sweet too and I wish you the best, and DON'T HIDE SHIT IN THE TAGS GODDAMMIT 😂

@white-lightning-625 @viiinceneil I know we really haven't talked much, and we met through unfortunate times, but I'm so glad that something good came out of the chaos and drama, which is being able to talk to you and getting to know you both better. And the fics. My god, the fics. Frankie, I already told you this but MY GOD. I still find it incredible that I've read a fic about a band I didn't even know what they looked or sounded like and I was HOOKED from start to finish. And Katie, I should definitely read more of your works because I love what you've got going on. You're both very sweet and talented with a very distinct, beautiful way of writing and I can't wait to sink my teeth into the pulp of your work, because I know that by now I only scratched the surface.

@awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands Bruh, conoscere una fan su tumblr the parla la MIA STESSA LINGUA (e che ha pure il mio stesso vero nome lmao cosa sta succedendo)??? Che concetto innovativo!!! Le nostre conversazioni sono sempre disgiunte, ma non importa, adoro ogni nostra interazione. Sei seriamente una delle persone più dolci e gentili che abbia mai conosciuto. La tua creatività stimola sempre la mia. Le tue moodboard sono sempre 👌👌👌 e ogni volta trovo sempre qualcosa che sì, ci avevo pensato, ma mai nel modo in cui lo poni tu, e di solito sono una persona che resta vicina alle proprie idee, ma tu riesci a farmi alterare prospettiva, e trovo questo meccanismo mentale molto affascinante. Ti ricordi lo swapped instruments AU, con Tommy come cantante, no? Giuro che è un concetto a cui penso ancora dopo mesi. Spero di avere la capacità mentale per tradurre quell'idea in arte il prima possibile, perché cazzo, lo adoro troppo

@tattooed-lies thank you for providing the fandom the best gifs in the fucking platform and thank you for giving us the vinikki content that everyone, even if they're not aware, deserves and needs. Thank you for being the only Vince stan that I know. Thank you for being the sweetest person alive 💖

@nbtommylee honestly, I wish I was cool like you. Your sense of humor is impeccable, much like your critical thinking. I have never read something from you that wasn't a valid point. You don't talk shit and that's extremely sexy of you, y'know? And having a "gender dysphoria buddy" to be jealous of our Rockstar Gender Of Choice with is always fun to have, so that's definitely a plus. Can't wait to see (and read!) more of your art, I just love your style so much and you deserve to be Known

@metalmelkor @emometalhead @polka-dot-duff I'm always so happy to see you in my notifs and y'all are oh so very sweet and cool, we haven't talked much but I love every interaction we have, sorry for having the social skills of a stale piece of white bread 🖤

A special thanks goes to @awesomgrlgr8job bc you're literally one of my very first mutuals since I made the decision to make this dumpster fire of a blog and holy shit it's crazy to think about that. I don't even know if we ever interacted that much but it's always such a joy to see you around, ily and I hope you're doing well and thanks for putting up with my clownery for so long 💖

Like seriously, thank you all. I don't even know where I would be without you. Here's to another year of chaos, but only of the good kind 💖

[ladynightmare913]

Red Rose, Blood Moon

Welcome to Chapter 12! This is an Original Story inspired by the tale of Red Riding Hood. I would like to say a special thank to my best friend and co-author Olivia ( @asunshinepuff​​ ) for joining me on writing this world onto paper. 

CW: This chapter contains a brief mention of nudity, blood, corpses, and weapons, and something that you can only imagine in your nightmares. You have your warning!

This story contains only original characters created by Olivia and myself. For those of you who want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask to me or Olivia on her blog. If you have any questions, theories, or curiosities about any of our characters or how the story will progress, send them to the ask box! 

Now without Further Adieu!

Chapter 12: The Creature

1838

Rosabella, Cassandra, and Felis all stared at Red as he gave his recount over the centuries. Cassandra sat on the farthest chair away from Red, eyes in suspicion. Felis stood behind her, leaning on the wall, a silent guard. Rosabella sat on the small trunk at the foot of the bed. Red sat by the fireplace, looking into the flames as he spoke. He spoke of the witch who cursed him, Bardolph’s transformation into the first bitten werewolf, living up in the snowy mountain, and the golden doe. His weapons had been taken, and locked into the chest that Rosabella sat on. At the end of his tale, Felis cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the women. 

“Rosabella, Cassandra, a word please.” He walked to the opposite far side of the large room. The two women follow close behind. Felis opens his mouth to speak but Cassandra beats him to it.

“I don’t trust him.” She says in a hushed tone. Eyeing Red in clear skepticism.

“You don’t trust anybody. The only person you ever trusted wasn’t even a person. It was an ermine.” Rosabella retorted as she gave Cassandra a reproachful eye. 

“Actually, the only person I’ve ever trusted at first was you.” Cassandra admits looking to Rosabella, “However, I see your point.”

Red scoffed in the distance. The trio ignored him, Felis spoke. 

“I am still wrapping my head around the fact that there is someone actually older than I am.” he looked between the women. 

“He tells about the witch who caused all this mess and that’s what you paid attention to?” Cassandra raises her eyebrows. 

“You must admit that he looks well for being 1,000 years old.”  

“I’m not admitting that.” She shakes her head, in effort to try and keep focus on the tale and situation at hand. “Alright well, what do you both suppose we do then? Our options are slim and we’re running out of time.”

“Pardon me, but he’s the father of all werewolves, even if we wanted to kill to him, we don’t even know if we could.” Felis said, looking between the women.

Rosabella frowned, she hissed, “We are not killing him, we wouldn’t be any better than those wolves who killed hundreds of people.” 

“I can hear you.” Red’s voice broke through their hushed tone. “I’m a wolf, I have stronger senses than humans. I would appreciate it if you didn’t decide to kill me.”

The group of three looked amongst themselves awkwardly before dispersing. They approach the wolf. 

“Is Red even your real name?”

The wolf merely looked away to the farthest wall. “It’s because I wore a red hood. I still do.” 

“So all those wolves we’ve fought, are they your descendants?” 

Red glared at the blonde woman. “They most certainly are not my descendants. I never sired any child. Nor have I lain with anyone.”   

Felis looked at Red in surprise. “Wait, seriously? You’ve never been with anyone? For a thousand years?”

Red looked at Felis with an indignant expression. “I was cursed by a woman who was to be my wife. I bit an innocent man and turned him into a monster. Given what happened to Bardolph when I bit him, do you really think I would risk siring more monsters like me?” He raised a brow expectantly at the pirate. 

“No, I suppose not.” Felis answered. 

“Besides, I had no interest in pursuing a mate.” He looked away. “I am not human anymore, I am a beast and such activities are of no interest to me.” 

Felis nodded his head understanding, Cassandra and Rosabella only looked between the two men in confusion. Cassandra spoke. “Now that we have confirmed that Bardolph is in fact a werewolf, we need to stop him.” 

“And how do you plan to do that? He nearly killed me when in his first year with the curse.”  

Cassandra looks off in thought, “Silver kills their kind. We pierce his heart with a silver dagger or arrow.” Red frowned at that. 

“We’ve tracked him to this village.” Felis explained.

“He’s not here, that I can assure you.” Red spoke curtly. 

“Well then where is he headed?” Cassandra asked, looking back to Red.

“He’s heading north,” Rosabella said at last, “his path is north, all the villages with victims were all recent. The first victim we came across was days old.”  

Red stood from his seat, towering over them. “Then I’m going north. I will not let him escape this time.” He moved to the door.

“We’re coming with you.” Rosabella blocked his path. “I still have no explanation as to how I failed to identify him as a werewolf.”  

“I don’t see how you could have, I am the only one to bear the curse mark-”

“That’s no excuse, I am coming with you like it or not.” She spoke firmly.

“I don’t like it, but I can’t stop you, just like you can’t stop me.” He moved to open the door, Rosabella closed it shut.

Felis sighed. “So I suppose this makes us allies for now?” He looked between all three of them, “I’ll go tell the innkeeper that we are leaving. Now. In the middle of the night. Because we cannot wait until morning.” He said sarcastically.

Gathering their horses, and one for Red, they rode out to the next village, past the snowy mountain Red had lived in for the past thousand years. Red said he scented the scent of something faul carried on the wind coming from a nearby village. Bardolph’s scent was coming from that direction as well. They reached the village of Mirstone in two days, near noon. They settled themselves into an inn that had hot springs. 

“We’ll search the town, we’ll meet back at the inn by nightfall.” Rosabella looked over the group. Red begrudgingly agreed. They each went in seperate directions, Rosabella took to the vendors in the open air markets. 

“I haven’t seen any man with that description.” A woman with brown eyes answered Rosabella. 

Rosabella’s shoulders fell, she had been searching for hours, yet not a single person had been able to tell her anything about Bardolph. Nox looked up to Rose, sitting down very much like how a dog would, ears perked up. She sighed. 

“But some have been going missing.” The woman admitted, looking around as if she might be heard. 

“Who?” Rosabella stepped closer. The woman hesitantly answered, leaning closer as she spoke in a low whisper. 

“ A young man went missing a few days ago, and two others before that. No one has seen them for weeks.” 

Missing?  “Thank you.”  

The woman quickly made her way across the path.  Nox hopped onto a barrel, then to her shoulders. Rosabella brought her hand to her chin, resting her arm on the other hand. Rosabella brows furrowed in thought. That didn’t sound at all like how Bardolph would strike, and it was men. Not women. With a sigh, Rosabella decided to return to the inn, she was exhausted. 

Nox chirped happily as she walked back. Stepping into the inn, the elderly innkeeper smiled. A petite woman with grey hair and grey eyes behind round spectacles. 

“Welcome back Miss. Will you be taking a bath in our springs?” She asked gently.

Rosabella paused, Nox looked at the old woman, sniffing the air. She probably should take a bath, they had traveled for days and the last time she bathed was at Erinna home. She frowned. She really needed a bath. 

“Yes that would be lovely thank you.” She answered, the old woman nodded her head.  

“It’s cleared out by now, you shouldn’t be disturbed. The men go to another spring.”  

Rosabella accepted the drying cloths given to her, then quickly went to her room to gather her soap and a bathrobe. Nox walked excitedly beside her, as she walked to a door with the word women on it. The door opened to a wooden hallway with an opening to the hot spring. Leaving her bathrobe on a wooden bench in the hallway, she walked from wooden floors to smooth warm stone to the steaming hot springs. Leaving the drying cloth on a nearby rock, wearing nothing but the gold antler and ruby necklace. Nox jumped onto a large rock and jumped into the hotspring. His nose peeking from the water he swam towards Rosabella, ears twitching.  

The night sky twinkled as the stars shined their light down to the earth below. The winter air had no effect on Rosabella as she reached for her bar of soap, beginning to lather her long hair. Lost in thought, she pondered over what little clues she had found. Hopefully the others had better luck than she did. She sighed, sinking into the overly warm water. 

Nox nose dived to try to reach the bottom of the spring. Rosabella peaked an eye open underwater, seeing Nox swimming about with ease. Her hair floating to the surface, the red streaks in her hair shimmering underwater from the light coming from the warm glow of the lanterns on the surface. Rosabella blew a bubble, then rose to the surface, taking a deep breath. Her eyes catch the sight of something small and white falling. She lifted her hand from the water, catching it. It melted in her warm hand. It was snowing. 

A loud crash of cracking wood startled Rosabella and Nox. Her head snapping to the sound, her eyes widen in shock. There was Red, on the ground laying next to the splintered wood of the fence, glaring in the direction of where he came from. His teeth were barred as she snarled at whoever threw him through the wall.  The shape of a staggering man walked through the hole in the fence. 

The man reeked of the stench of wolf and death. Nox growled as he climbed out of the spring. Rosabella gasped at the sight of the man, he didn’t look human at all. Half his face elongated like that of a wolf, one eye was a beedy red, the other had lost its color. Patches of fur grew on his arms and legs, the remaining skin was red from irritation. His legs looked like the ones from the hind legs of a canine, and his feet were elongated, with clawed toes at each end. It was absolutely hideous to look at. 

Red rose to his feet, his arms were spread open, preparing for another attack. Rosabella stood. 

“Red!” She exclaimed, the shock not entirely gone. 

Red turned his head to look at her, his eyes widened at the sight of her, his eyes quickly snapping away from her bare body. “Rosabella!” He said in an alarmed taut tone.

Rosabella frowned at his reaction, she paled in realization, sinking into the water, her arms wrapping around her. Her eyes searching for the drying cloth she left on a boulder. Her eyes landed on Nox standing on his hand legs, holding the drying cloth in his mouth. 

The man, or creature, stalked towards Red, lunging for his throat. Red easily dodged, punching the thing right in its elongated jaw. The creature whimpered, then retaliated by biting Red’s forearm. Red growled menacingly at it, his other arm reaching for the scruff of the creature's neck. The creature let go of his hand, and rammed its head into Red’s. 

Red’s eyes flashed gold, ignoring the pain in favor of pushing it back, reaching for his sword. The creature knocked it out of his hands as it crashed its entire body into Red’s. The sword clattering to the ground. Red was pinned underneath the creature on top of him, its mouth snapping its fanged human teeth at him, Red kept the things' jaws as far away as he could. The monster’s weight crushing him, Red’s fangs gleamed as he growled. 

The sound of metal piercing flesh resonated in the night air, the creature fell limp in his arms. He pushed it off of himself. Rosabella stood behind the creature, her eyes wide at the sight of its twitching corpse. Panting for breath, trembling as she clutched Red’s sword tightly. Her hair dripping to the ground, shivering from the cold, her drying cloth doing nothing to keep her warm. The creature’s red beady eye dimed. 

She felt something warm placed on her shoulders, warmth enveloping her body. Her eyes blinked slowly, coming out of her daze. Firm yet gentle hands pried the bloody sword that she stabbed the creature’s heart with from her hands. She turned to look at Red. He wiped the blade clean, he kept his eyes down, refusing to meet her gaze. 

“What was that thing?” She spoke in a breathy whisper. His eyes lifted to hers, refusing to look anywhere else but her face.  

“I don’t know.”  He answered courtly. 

The gleam of something shiny caught his eye, unintentionally looking down to the gold antler and ruby necklace on her neck. He grew silent. She watched him with dazed eyes. 

A gasp reached their ears, Red and Rosabella looked to the old innkeeper, who looked in horror at the chaos before her old eyes. She looked at the two youths before her, standing awfully close to each other.

“What in heaven’s name happened?” She asked meekly, carefully stepping over the rubble.

Rosabella flushed in embarrassment, “I apologize for the mess but,” she pointed to the corpse lying just a few feet away from them, the old gasped in horror at the sight of the monster, “we had a bit of a situation.” 

The old woman muttered something about having to make quick repairs to the wall. “Red?” Rosabella called softly. 

Red looked back to her eyes, “You should go inside. Unless you plan to catch a cold,” then left her in the springs. Rosabella watched him leave, tilting her head in puzzlement. The warm cloth on her shoulder sagged, hand quickly catching the top two ends. The cloth was lined with black bur, and the fabric was warm and soft on her fingertips, and wine red. Her eyes snapped back to where Red had stood. He wasn’t wearing his cloak. Her heartbeat ringing loudly in her ears. He left her his cloak. 

In a daze, Rosabella returned to her room, put on clean clothes and her red cloak, combed her hair and Nox’s fur. She folded Red’s cloak gently and put it to the side as she waited for Cassandra and Felis to return. She wondered if they too came across that creature. In the end, Cassandra and Felis returned, the four of them gathered to speak over anything they found. 

Cassandra looked exhausted as she sat beside the fireplace, Lumi situated in her lap as she looked up at the group, and she was a bit envious of Rosabella managing to get a bath, Felis leaned on the wall, the dim light from the fireplace not helping the shadows under his eyes, and Red looked awake as ever. He was probably used to staying awake days at a time Rosabella mused.  

“All I managed to find out is that people have been going missing.” Cassandra began the report with a sigh.

“And most of the people gone missing, are young men, sometimes women.” Felis continued. 

Rosabella contemplated that. “I heard the same thing, but Red and I were attacked by something I’ve never seen before.” 

Red didn’t bother to comment. Felis seemed to awaken a bit more. “What did you see?”

“It looked like a man, but it had patches of fur all over its body. And its face was distorted, half of it was elongated like a wolf’s, and its legs were like a dog’s. Its hands were clawed. It smelled like death.”  Rosabella’s face grew grim.

“Sounds like something out of a nightmare…” Cassandra whispered with a wince.

“I have never heard of such a creature.” Felis pushed himself off the wall. 

“Whatever it was, it was strong, Red struggled to fight it off.” Rosabella explained, Red snorted. “I managed to slay the creature with his sword. Piercing its heart.” 

Felis looked to Red, “Was it the curse gone wrong?” 

Red shook his head. “It’s not my curse, I couldn’t recognize it. Any other wolf I came across I instantly could feel the curse, and they would either pissed their pants like a pup in excitement at meeting me, or run away in terror. There is no in between.” 

“Where would something like that even come from?” Cassandra mused, watching as the ermine jumped from her lap and perched himself on her shoulder.

“The north.” Red drew the attention of the others, the room was silent for a long moment.

“How do you know?” Rosabella asked him. 

“The scent of magic was heavy, and it smelled like the dirt from the northern forest I once traveled through years ago.” Red explained, his eyes narrowed as he looked to Rosabella. 

“That’s a long way for it to travel, you need a boat just to travel up river.” 

Felis gave a somber sigh. “I miss my ship.” 

Cassandra softly laughed under her breath momentarily. “It would be useful right about now, but it’d be too big to fit on the river.” 

“Bardolph is a wolf who is running around murdering women, there are people who have gone missing, a strange creature that has no semblance of self consciousness given that it didn’t respond to pain, is ridiculously strong that it threw Red through a wooden wall, somehow came from the north that you need to travel by the river to get here, looks like what might by the wolf curse, and Red cannot recognize them.”  Rosabella listed, her eyes darting as her thoughts raced. “I don’t know how to make sense of all this.” 

Cassandra stays silent, mentally running through Rosabella’s list once again. She couldn’t make sense of it either. An obvious connection was evident, though Red’s description of the scent of magic struck out to her the most. Felis walked towards Cassandra’s seat, placing a hand to her shoulder.

“That’s not all.” Red countered. “When I returned for the creature's corpse, half of its face matched the description of one of the missing men.” 

The air in the room chilled, Rosabella felt sick. The missing man was this creature and he came from somewhere up in the northern forest? Felis cleared his throat. “I take it we have our heading.”  

Rosabella and Red stood. “We’re going north.” 

Tag List: Let me know if you wish to be added!

@violetatapiamills​ @spookypotato​ @purple-amaranthe​ 

[delvalentine]

deltachye writing challenge 2020

happy september !

guess what’s special about next month to me… october 5th is my bday! happy 20th birthday to me, and cheers to 10 whole years of writing fanfiction! ah… halfway to forty…

i wanted to celebrate my bday with everybody by sharing a writing challenge. i’ve compiled some of my favourite tropes and the big 20 plot-bunnies of inspiration/things i’ve always wanted to write/things i love to read.

rules:

you can use either the scenario or just the quote. bonus points if you use both at once, though!

to keep this a challenge, you must not alter the scenario or the quote. quotes have to be used word for word and the fic needs to try and incorporate every bit of the scenario.

there’s no minimum or maximum word count - write as little or as much as you’d like. no restriction on ratings, either. if you’d like to do more than one of these, go wild! (but maybe not more than one trope in one fic. ie if you’d like to mix & match tropes, try writing two different fics instead to really focus on the one idea. but that doesn't mean you can't have continuations/sequels!)

you can use any characters you want. it doesn’t have to be a reader insert. i’m not asking people to write fics specifically dedicated to me for this challenge, but if you’d like to, my favourite characters/dokis are listed here.

there’s no due date ! ideally, i’d like to read your guys’ work on the 5th, but obviously i’d prefer you take your time. & if you found this after october 5th and still want to participate, go ham ! but please remember to:

tag me so i can see and share! tumblr: @deltachye, ao3: @deltachye, quotev: @kartanika. & be sure to mention “deltachye writing challenge 2020” in the description or notes somewhere! also note which trope and/or quote you used :)

ao3 challenge link | input deltachye2020 into “Post to Collections / Challenges”.

lastly: have fun! …OR ELSE. lol

FAKE DATING

1. A broke up with their s/o and calls upon close friend B to help cover for them at a family gathering, since they haven’t told their family yet. B wonders why A doesn’t just tell the truth since the lie is spiralling out of control, but plays along anyways. 2. “I had fun pretending, but it’s over now.”

JEALOUSY

3. B hasn’t been able to confess to A and would rather keep it that way. A gets a little too close to C (whether it was on purpose or by accident) and B finally snaps.

4. “You belong to me and only me.”

AMNESIA

5. A and B are happily in love. One day a tragic incident occurs, and A nearly loses their life. B is relieved when A finally wakes up, only to be horrified that B is the only person A doesn’t remember.

6. “I’m sorry I can’t be the person you knew.”

FRIENDS W BENEFITS/F**KBUDDIES

7. A and B started off as strangers who hooked up for convenience. As they start getting closer, they become more and more attracted to one another until suddenly a regular “session” in bed feels too intimate.

8. “We were never even friends in the first place, so what does it matter?”

OPPOSITES ATTRACT

9. A is a STEM teacher. B is a humanities teacher. They have opposing viewpoints and fight over everything, but now they have to share a classroom. (alternative: they’re already dating/married, but nobody knows, and they have to keep it that way.)

10. “I don’t think I’ve ever hated anybody more than you.”

HURT/COMFORT/SICKFIC

11. A is the type to never let anybody take care of them. When A goes under with a bad cold, B is the one who has to wrestle with A’s stubbornness. (whether A and B are already in an established relationship or aren’t is up to you.)

12. “Could you just let me love you!?”

DOMESTIC FLUFF/MARRIAGE/ENGAGEMENT

13. A, a chronic overthinker, is getting worried about why B isn’t proposing to them even though they live together and have been in a committed relationship for a long time.

14. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.”

POST-BREAK UP

15. A and B used to be in an established relationship until recently. However, due to unavoidable circumstances, they still have to be near each other. One day, A notices that something’s wrong because they’re the only one who knows B only does this when they’re really upset.

16. “I really did love you, you know.”

CAN’T BE TOGETHER BECAUSE…

17. A leaves B despite admitting that they’re still in love with B. A has to do it for B’s own good and can’t tell them why. Stubborn, B gets themselves into tricky/dangerous situations to draw A back out.

18. “I am begging you—no more.”

TEACHER/STUDENT - COLLEGE

19. A has a date/hook-up with B (that they either hated or loved). After they both arrive late to lecture, A realizes that B is their professor, and B realizes A is their student.

20. “So are we just going to keep pretending that didn’t happen, or…?”

[zombierocker17]

Late night surprise, Imagine for @haaarry ♥️

Harry is making you go for a spa day all day. This morning he told you "I want you to be relaxed, you've been under so much stress from writing all week. Please go and relax Selena I want you to feel perfect for tonight."he says caressing your hand as he sends you on your way. Leaving you curious of what's to come later this day.

You arrive at the lovely looking spa. Candles, inscense, and rose petals everywhere. Walking to the front desk a large built man greeted you. " Appointment?" He asked.

"Yes, it should be under Selena, or Mr. Styles" you said.

He tapped his keyboard " Ah yes Mrs.Selena Styles."

Your heart skips a beat, you and Harry were not married.

"Just Selena" you correct him.

"My apologies, Deborah will take you to your private room." He says pointing to her.

A short thin middle aged woman appeared from the room behind him and brought you into a private room. "You may store your private items here Mrs. Styles" the woman says before leaving you.

"It's just Selena" you sigh.

You entered your private room. It had lilac purple walls and golden brown wooden floors. Gold letters on the walls saying 'Serenity is calling'. You admired the marble table top, a tightly wrapped package lay atop it. A small tag on the package stated, 'Large sized personal dressing gown'.

With your dressing gown on over your comfortably bare body, you were escorted down a short hallway to get massage. You reached a door it was open and see a thin tall blonde woman. You assumed she was the masseuse. Her name tag read 'Clara'.

"Hello Clara my name is Selena" you said. She nodded as she closed the door locking it for no intrusion. You laid on the sheet covered massage table stomach down placing your head into the pillow rest. She placed a towel on your and started moving up your body massaging away and knots or pain.

After your body massage the short woman from before brought you to another room for a manicure. You got long coffin shaped nails, the colors of Harry's fine line album art, the pink and blue was bright on your nails. But you liked them, they were a little piece of Harry with you.

Your body felt completely relaxed, checking your phone in the car home. A message from 'Sweet Creature'. That was Harry's name in your phone.

Harry: Hope your feeling better Sels,♥️ Tell the driver to take you to our special spot by the beach.

You: See you soon😘

The driver takes you to the beach house that you and Harry share. It's in a hidden beach, very private.

You walked into the house, a trail of 'Sunflower' flower petals leads to a medium sized gold packaged bag. You open it it find a créme colored dress. And a note. The dress was silky, it stopped just above your knees. You got dressed into the outfit and read the note.

'Meet me in the at the back door' - H

You walk to the backdoor, seeing him standing there with a blindfold in hand.

"Put this on and take my hand Selena" he says handing your he blindfold. You take the silky blindfold and place it over your eyes as Harry ties it in place. "You look lovely in that dress Selena" he said taking your hand. "Thank you Harry" he leads you outside, down the back pathway. Rubbing your hand with his long ringed fingers.

He stops, " I'm going to remove the blindfold, ok?"

"Ok Harry" you say calmly.

He removes it standing behind you, your eyes still closed. He wraps his arms around your curvy body squeezing you lightly. "Open them Selena" he says, You open your eyes to see a beautiful scene. A candle lit picnic near the shore on the beach.

"Oh Harry " you say blushing in pure utter love with him. He smiles taking your hand in his. Leading you down to the picnic.

You sit and he sits next to you. Your eyes admiring everything, the candles he lit, the food, the picnic basket. But your admiring Harry more. Everything about him. His deep green eyes looked like perfect emeralds in this lighting. The candle light bouncing off every curve in his face made you tingle. His tanned skin was 'Golden' in this light.

His perfect pink lips smiled widely at you, as he stared into your chocolate brown eyes. He hand came up and caresses your cheek. "Your perfect Selena" he says blushing a bit. He digs in the picnic basket and pulls out a bottle of Watermelon Champange and pours some for you and him into the glasses. You sip the drink, "This is beautiful Harry. But something's going on?". He smiles shaking his head. You can tell he is hiding somthing, the way he fidgets with his rings and the wine glass .

"How was the spa? I see you got your nails done I love the color. They are pretty" he says completely avoiding your question.

You ignore it and continue with enjoying Harry. After your both done eating he packs up the dishes and food. You both lay on the blanket with the small pillows under your heads. Looking at the romantic sunset it makes your stomach tingle.

He sits up, you go to sit up with him but he stops you. "Stay there love. I just want to admire your beauty" he says caressing your curvy side with the side of his hand feeling your perfect curves. Tracing gently up from your ankles up your legs. Past your knees up your dress to your waist.

You find yourself breathing fast and deep just at him doing this. Making your insides twist 'Wanting him'. He climbs on top of you pressing his chest against your . Pressing his sweet lips against your perfectly plump ones.

The kiss is long and passionate, his hands traveling all around you. Feeling your wonderful body, worshiping every curve. It was a full romantic makeout session. He was smiling in the kiss, and you could feel it.

He finally brakes away, breathless. "Let's go for a walk love." He gets up off you gently. He helps you up. You walk down the shore letting the water hit your bare feet. It was cooling, the water reaching just below your ankles as you both walked.

Harry stops a bit down the beach. The sunset perfectly shining on him and yourself.

"Selena, your my everything you know that right? " He asks staring directly into your eyes.

"Yes Harry?"

"Any you know that I wouldn't change that for anybody or anything?" He says. Your heart is beating a million miles an hour.

"Yes Harry." It's all you can say at this point

"Well we have been together for 4 years now and we are still young but I want this now. I wouldn't want anybody else. I want you, all your creativity, your humour, that smile that kills me over and over everyday I see it. Your constantly support me and my every move. Your needy, horny, and incredibly wonderful.". He says wiping away a small tear.

Your practically putty in his hands at this point.

"Selena your more to me than anyone else in this world. I don't want anything you do for me to go unnoticed. So I have a questions for you? "He blushes seeing you trying not to cry.

He gets down on his knee pulling out a dark red velvet box opening it during the question.

"Selena darling? Will you be forever mine and marry me?" Deeply staring at you. Taking in every detail of your face waiting for your response.

It's takes you a few seconds leaving him in pure agony until you finally say.

"YES! Yes Harry. I will" you hug him kissing his lips hard and passionate.

"Oh I'm so happy". He stands up removing the ring from the box. And sliding it on your perfect finger. "It fits" he says with releif. "I was so worried about what it was going to look like that I never realised the size of your finger.". He chuckles.

You smile back. You never really looked at the ring you where to far in the moment. You admired it on your finger. It reminded you of Harry so much. The delicate elegance it held.

The rest of the night was spent in Harry's perfect embrace wrapped around your body. Smiling the rest of the night.

" I love you Mrs. Selena Styles" he says kissing your lips.

The end.

This is a message from me to @haaarry or Selena. Thank you for being such a talented writer, you inspired me to write. I'm not a writer I'm an artist I paint and draw, but you inspired me to start writing and I love it.

Your beautiful, if it's not obvious by the amount of times I said so in the story. Your a sweet human being and hopefully a future friend. I'd love to chat with you.

Lastly I hate being a pusher, but I would love it if you read some of my other writings. There is a link to my master list in my bio. (I also learned how to make that with your help) thanks babe. I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thank your for everything Sels

- Briana♥️

[yeats-infection]

@sqvalors tagged me in a lil writing meme... if you’d like to participate please do and tag me! 

ao3 name: fluorescentgrey but i also post some things as drglass (dr. glass is the second song on the fluorescent grey EP by deerhunter, so if i make another pseud it will be likenew, then washoff, etc.) 

fandoms: about two thirds of my fics are harry potter or star wars but there are a lot of random little goodies. currently i have shifted into the terror (2018) mode. 

number of fics: 59 right now... i will throw a party when i get to 69... 

fic i spent the most time on: this is funny because some of these technically took me like six months or more of working on them extremely intermittently... namely, bone machine. the series in the garden has taken me the most time generally... and in that, minuet did take me several months of working really hard while i had a schedule / commute that was not conducive to having a creative practice... 

fic i spent the least amount of time on: hilariously, literally my most popular fic by ninety miles, the witcher PWP that i wrote out of spite in two or three hours. 

longest fic: the source codes series... particularly heelstone which is 102k. i wrote these two stories in a single summer like a crazy person and i hate talking about them because i find them WAY too gooey. honestly, that’s why they are so long. it’s all the gooeyness!!!!!! 

shortest fic: yes, the answer is the witcher porn again (this silly thing is going to be the answer for many other questions in this little meme but i’m just going to stop talking about it while i’m ahead). the west end is just about 50 words longer and is much better and is a much better and more interesting story. 

most hits: we’re just going to pretend it’s sex and dying in high society, which has the second most hits. this is certainly due to the fact that @wolfstarwarehouse hypes this story a lot for which i am endlessly grateful! 

most kudos: recovery position has the second most kudos so let’s go with that one! i have been very touched by the response to this story, though i do personally like the sequel beachcoma a little more... i understand why not everyone wants to read it because it is a little more bittersweet. but it also comes from my soul. 

most comment threads: the two stories in the source codes series are leading here, because i only posted two chapters at a time so that i would get maximal validation, lol. 

most bookmarks: in order to talk about a story i haven’t talked about yet, the rosary has the fourth-most. i think this fic is truly my r/s swan song... i said everything i wanted to say and did everything i wanted to do. it’s a really good mystery/noir story that i didn’t think i could pull off until i did! and i love the OCs in it who have sort of manifested these secret headcanons for me that i may expostulate upon someday. thank you to @piovascosimo for the inspiration to write it. 

total word count: 1,000,478. lol! 

favorite fic i wrote: cannot possibly choose but probably the top five in order of date posted are: desperado, a handful of dust, doom town, beachcoma, jump into the fire

fic i’d rewrite / expand on: i already said all of source codes because it’s way too gooey, i also could make hard time killing floor blues a lot tighter, and a memoir of the flesh deserves a way better ending because i was rushing to make the yuletide deadline...

share a bit of a WIP: i was trying for a while to write a band of brothers AU where they are vietnam vets who start growing cannabis... based on the steve earle song “copperhead road.” this could have been SO good but the plot was too huge and unwieldy so i gave up. my roommate is obsessed with this idea and keeps asking me how it’s going so i may yet finish. but there’s a bit below the cut.

The knock at the door in the night was a sharp shock, bright as lightning, that sent them both back to Khe Sanh and before. Nix ducked. Dick went behind the doorframe. They kept low into the kitchen, where Nix took his old officer’s pistol out from where he kept it hidden behind the fridge. Then they went to the door, keeping to the edges of the hallways.

On the porch was Liebgott. He could have made his own way in likely right onto the couch without either of them noticing, so it was something that he had knocked on the goddamn door. It was particularly something given that none of the boys from Easy should have known about the grow operation, or even about Dick’s farm, being as Dick’s address on file at the V.A. was a post office box in town and Nix’s was still in Jersey. These considerations were nil to somebody who had spent the better part of five years in the bush of Vietnam. He took a last draw from his cigarette and put it out against the rubber sole of his boot, then he put the butt in his pocket. As far as Nix knew, he hadn’t said a word since January 1970.  

“Joe,” said Dick diplomatically. He put his hand out and Liebgott took it. Then he took Nix’s. He had handsome dark eyes, but they were full of a wall. You could tell he saw you, but it was like nothing followed the necessary channels to the brain to spur emotional response. It had been like this even while he was still talking, and after a while you got used to it.

“You comin' in,” said Nix, knowing he probably would even if he wasn’t invited.

Inside, they all three sat at the kitchen table in silence nobody was about to break. Finally Dick got up and went to the drawer where they kept the rollies and their share of the product. He passed a sheaf of papers and a film canister full of bud to Liebgott across the table. Nix understood as well as Dick apparently did that there would be no getting anything over on this kid, who had eyes in the back and sides of his head. He’d probably had a nice tour of the property before coming inside. “You hungry, son,” Dick said.

Liebgott shook his head. He extracted one of the buds from the canister and inspected it. They did look mighty good if Nix said so himself. They looked artful in Liebgott’s hand. There were black scabs across his knuckles and a dark rime of filth under those fingernails which still existed. He seemed satisfied enough with what he saw to take a paper out of the sheaf and start shredding the flower into it.

“Captain Nixon calls it Easy Diesel,” said Dick, like he was trying to pretend it wasn’t the funniest thing in the world.

Liebgott looked up and a smile flashed across his face like the savage golden light of a flare falling over the far hills. His smile was sort of brutal, like the edge of a knife in a barfight, or like a seething animal. Luckily it went away as quickly as it had come. He rolled the joint with a quick grace and lit the business end with his old silver Zippo Nixon hadn’t seen since the war. There was a skull engraved on one side and on the other it read IF YOU ARE RECOVERING MY BODY, FUCK YOU.

“I don’t know how you found us, Joe,” Dick said thoughtfully. “You don’t have to… tell us. But we ain’t exactly keen to have just anybody here.” He paused and looked quickly to Nix, who tried to make it abundantly clear by means of eyebrows that he wasn’t sure they ought to go down this road, wherever it was leading. Dick ignored him. Liebgott was watching them, fully understanding their attempted clandestine exchange. “We ain’t exactly keen to have the DEA here,” Dick said at last.

The cherry at the end of the joint atomized with a crackling hiss. Liebgott looked between Dick and Nix with extreme seriousness sullied only by his exhaling a dignified white cloud out his nose. Then he nodded, once, curtly, demonstrating he understood his orders as they had been relayed.

Nix flashed Dick what he thought was a what have you done type look. But Dick looked totally unbothered. He should have gone into this business years ago for how violently unflappable he was. He said to Liebgott, “I’ll get some blankets and you can make up the couch.”

Liebgott shook his head to say no need. He got up, careful not to scrape the chair against the floor, shook each of their hands again, and in less than a minute’s time he was back out the door with nothing more than what he’d come in with except the joint.

Nix and Dick, on the porch, listening to the crickets, watched him disappear into the darkness.

“Are we hallucinating,” said Nix eventually.

“I sure as hell hope not,” Dick replied. “We’ve got to ship all that product or we’ll starve.”

-

In the morning Nix was in the field, inspecting the plants. Liebgott was standing there at his quarter for god knew how long before he cleared his throat and Nix jumped about six feet in the air. There was a smirk shifting across Liebgott’s face that he would have been better about hiding when Nix had been his commanding officer. He looked like he hadn't slept. Back over there he had looked like that a lot, but it had been different, because of all the uppers they were taking. He cocked his head back over toward the long driveway and then he was off across the dew-wet grass which had already soaked through the hems of his canvas pants and his destroyed shoes.

Nix followed, like a duckling behind a hen. Liebgott still walked as though there were eyes in all sides of his head quickly processing information as he moved. Nix doubted you ever lost that kind of skill, even if in the real world it made you look like a mental patient. He caught up so they could walk side by side through the dew-wet grass. “What did you think,” he asked Liebgott.

Liebgott passed Nix the universal sign of furrowed brow that meant please clarify.

Nix gestured with pinched fingers to his own mouth as though Liebgott were also deaf. “The grass.”

He shaped his hand into an a-ok sign.

“You get any sleep?”

He nodded an infinitesimal nod, like the answer was a secret just for Nix to know.

“Well if you think it could be better just tell me how.”

Nix had had a high school friend whose sister was deaf from scarlet fever and whom he had watched on occasion communicate with her by means of sign language. Early on, back over there, he had sent off to command for a book, but by the time it came he understood it wasn’t that Liebgott couldn’t speak, he just didn’t want to. It was something like how people’s hair supposedly turned white if they witnessed some evil thing, or how people became ascetics in the name of god. If you were really fucked up on drugs or fear or otherwise, or if the natural magical thinking from childhood hadn’t been fully beaten out of you, you might have seen it as the sacrifice he had given to the forest for letting him out without a scratch so many goddamn times. It had been a bit of a trial to explain this to Spiers, who was practical almost to a fault, sometimes.

Liebgott showed another a-ok sign. Then he did a thumbs up which Nix knew meant it was good.

All in all it was smart. If he was still talking, Nix might have asked him, what have you been up to? You been sleeping on the street? You been to the V.A.? What did they tell you? And the answer would’ve been nothing good. Instead they just walked in the cool grass together in the sunshine and the morning was beautiful, and the air was sweet. It was all lovely until Liebgott had to physically stop him, laughing, somehow silently but also hysterically, from stepping right onto the razor-thin tripwire stretched invisibly across the dark gravel.

In the kitchen, Dick was doing the numbers. He took his glasses off when Nix came in and put the coffee on. “He learned a thing or two from Charlie,” Nix said, leaning against the counters.

“Who, Joe?”

“Our driveway is thoroughly ratfucked.”

“Hmm,” said Dick. He put the glasses back on and turned back to the accounting book. He was going to do this whole thing as above board as was humanly possible. The vivid daylight came through the window and struck the lens of his unstylish Ray-Bans and threw a kind of prism of color upon the white paper and the chicken-scratch sums. Nix felt like maybe this was something you would paint if you had the necessary implements and artistic ability. “Maybe we should see if we can get any more help.”

-

He was mildly ashamed to say it, but the doc had always kind of creeped Nix out. He imagined a hypothetical conversation with Dick, who he knew loved the kid, almost like a son: Listen, don’t get me wrong, he’s a good kid, I owe him my life, yadda yadda. But either he’s dropped the brown acid one too many times or the voodoo exorcism went FUBAR.

The doc had arrived on the farm on the heels of Sunshine and Rainbows, aka Mr. Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed, aka one Edward “Babe” Heffron. Nix had written Babe in South Philly, being as he was a connoisseur of bud and once upon a time had been famed among their company for smoking anything anyone put in his hand, often to his own detriment. The operation was getting big enough that Nix needed another pair of hands, other than Liebgott, of course, who was still fortifying the long driveway whilst giving away his cover by playing Led Zeppelin IV as loudly as was possible. It was a tough calculation, because Babe was a genius of pot, but he couldn’t keep a damn secret, and lo and behold he had dragged along with him a dark shadow in the human form of Eugene Roe. They came up the driveway in a big old Ford pickup that rattled its rust off in the potholes. Liebgott had dismantled the traps specially for their arrival when they had called from Williamsport to say they were an hour out.

“I figured we could use a medical professional to lend some credibility to the operation,” said Babe thoughtfully, sparking a joint on the porch over sweating jam jars of iced tea.

Roe snorted or something but it wasn’t really a normal person’s self-effacing laugh. Winters clapped his back. Nixon knew Roe had dropped out of medical school after two years but there was no need to say anything. Everyone knew that. Now he was working construction and Babe claimed to be working as a mechanic in a garage, but this seemed suspect given the state of the car they had driven up in.

“Well we sure as hell are glad you boys are here,” said Dick magnanimously.

Babe exhaled an opaque cloud that rivaled Nix’s own father’s ability with a stogie. “Can we see the bush?”

They went out all together to the field and ducked between the rows of corn. Babe knelt in the soil. It was damp with dew and quiet in here. It would have been almost like over there except it smelled good. “What’s the cross,” Babe said, inspecting the plants.

“It’s an indica blend…”

“Well, I can tell that,” he said.

“So you’re an expert on the plant now too?”

“I’ve just smoked an awful lot of joints in my life, Captain Nixon.”

Roe snorted again. When they all looked to him he said, “You said in the letter there was some kind of altruistic reason for all this.”

“It’s medicine, Gene,” Babe said gently, but also like they had had this conversation thirty thousand times. Nix filed away for later the intimation that Roe had read the letter he’d sent Babe at home in South Philadelphia.

“I guess you don’t remember the psychic break you had at the Do Lung Bridge.”

Babe waved this remark off, even though Nix remembered it too. It threw a chill down his back, like a water balloon had hit him at the base of his neck. “That was laced,” Babe said.

“With what!”

“I don’t know! Something bad!” Babe turned to Dick and Nix. “Gene’s teetotal,” he said, like this was a big old point of contention.

So that counted out the bad acid. Maybe he was just like this. Maybe he had had those big sad bug eyes as a child or an infant or a fetus in the womb. “Good on you, Doc,” Nix said.

“I ain’t trying it,” Roe said, folding his arms over his narrow chest, “no matter what it does.”

The doc was a tough cookie. Babe had claimed, over there, about as high as the Byrds song, that the doc came from a long line of the kind of folks described in Dr. John’s “Gris-Gris Gumbo Ya Ya” and that, as such, he could heal wounds with his mind. When it didn’t work, as on the night when Jackson died, or the night when Hoobler died, or in the forest when Muck and Penkala died, or the night when Liebgott stopped speaking, he went to sit for a while on the edge of camp until Dick went over and made him eat something. Nix watched them in a state of confused envy, and then he went to write the letters to the families, so that Dick wouldn’t have to.

At dusk, after they ate a light dinner of corn on the cob and rice and beans, he took the boys up into the hayloft with an armful of blankets. “Sorry this is the best we got,” he said. He had said that about a hundred god damn times since they got here.

Roe looked like he wanted to say, you’ve got to stop apologizing for everything. Instead he said, “Where does Lieb sleep.”

Babe perked up. “Joe’s here?”

“You didn’t see him in the driveway?”

Nix sighed. “He’s gonna want to know what he did wrong that you saw him,” he said.

“Does he still — ”

Nix shook his head. “Not a peep.”

In a couple days time, he couldn’t take it anymore, and he was hot and tired and stoned, up to his elbows in earth in the field, showing Babe how to replant the hatchlings he’d grown from seed. “You guys room together or what?”

“Me and Gene?” Babe’s eyes were red in the corners from smoking and from the sun. “What about you and Dick?”

Dick, who had the radio on inside turned up as loud as it would go, so that they would hear it in the field, playing Crosby Stills and Nash doing “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.” “What about me and Dick?” said Nix.

Babe was a smart kid. He realized this was going nowhere. With muddy hands he popped one of the seedlings out of its little pot and cradled it into the ground. “Well, I think he thinks he’s looking after me, but in actuality, I am looking after him.”

[ageless-aislynn]

Fic questions meme

Tagged by the ever-awesomesauce @swiftjolras ♥

Name: Aislynn

Fandoms: Primarily The Flash, these days, especially if you’re just looking at AO3. I’m considering moving a couple of my Doctor Who fics over to AO3, though. Right now, all but one are available only on my Livejournal creative comm. ;)

Where You Post: AO3 and Tumblr

Most Popular One-Shot: Five Times Oliver Held Felicity (And The One Time She Held Him) (Olicity, Arrow) (Rated PG13 | T) byyyyy faaaarrrr. Most popular Snowells fic is More (ReverseSnow) (Rated R | M) if you just go by hit count. 

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: The Thousandth and the First (ReverseSnow, The Flash) (Rated R | M) on AO3. “Balancing Act” (Ten/Donna, Doctor Who) (Rated: R | M) is my most popular from Livejournal. I’m thinking about freshening it up and bringing it to AO3 next time I’m in between Snowells things. ;)

Favorite Story You’ve Written: Well, that’s like picking your favorite child, now isn’t it? o_O ;) That said, I’m going to look my AO3 stats over and give a shout-out to the one with the lowest comment count, which is... “By Any Other” which kicked off my Partners In Crime series and still remains one of my favorite versions of ReverseFrost. My Frost was written before we “met” in her in the show, so I used a variation of her comic powers. I still really do enjoy them a bunch and haven’t written off doing more fics for them one day. I think I enjoy the fact that, basically, Caitlin is the hot mess between the two and Eo’s just trying to contain the damage as best he can, lol! ;) *does fingerguns to @nalufever for being the lone comment there* ;) (It does have a pair of comments at Tumblr as well. *fingerguns for them as well* ;) )

Story You Were Nervous to Post: Every. Single. One. But definitely the smut fics, “Elevated” (Frostthawne) (Rated NC17 | E) and “Cupid’s Kiss” (ReverseSnow) (Rated NC17 | E). It was scary to post something that was that much more explicit than the rest of my stuff. o_O

How You Choose Your Titles: Most of the time I end up with a list of possibilities and I just kinda repeat them over and over to myself until I decide one of them fits the best. I like the titles to tie into the story in some way, so it’ll often be a line in the fic. Sometimes it doesn’t make sense UNTIL the last line in the fic, like “The Thousandth and the First” and “*With Benefits.” (SnowHarry) (Rated R | M) I sometimes use or twist part of the prompt as the title, like “Goodbye/Hello.” (SnowHarry) (Rated PG13 | T)

Complete: Right now, I have 46 Flash fics at AO3, wow! I have 32 Doctor Who fics at my LJ creative comm. No other fandoms come close. ;)

Incomplete: This song is playing in my head right now, just so you know. ;) Not that I mind. ;) “Haunted” (ReverseSnow, FrostNash) (Rated PG13 | T)  is getting at least 2 more chapters AND a follow-up, multichapter fic. “Cupid’s Kiss” is getting a sequel fic, possibly more. “Unrequited” (Snowloque) (Rated PG13 | T) has 3 more fics following it. All of those are in progress. ;)

Do You Outline: Nope, I’m a plantser, where in I try to just get a general idea of the story, will jot down a few things I want to remember but I mainly just try to get the opening scene and a general idea of where to go and then... start writing. That’s the system that works best for me. Short fics that are basically a scene usually kinda pop into my head in their entirety and I just try to reel ‘em in as fast as I can, lol! ;)

Coming Soon / Not Yet Started: I have a giant beast of fic - right now conservatively estimating at 20 - 25 chapters, good gracious!O_O - that is 3 chapters in so far. I have no idea who I’m writing this for, other than myself, lol. It’s requiring a bit of worldbuilding, we have not one but two different Eobard Thawnes and a Caitlin Snow who, when faced with a choice of Eobards, wisely says, “Why not both?” :P ;) I’ll feel like I’ve done a passable job if my Eowells fans out there feel like Mattobard is a worthy part of this OT3. ;) This Largest of All Fics I’ve Ever Done is tentatively titled the Shortest Name of All My Fics, “Try.”

Do You Accept Prompts: Do I EVER, lol! I accept them any time but I periodically open up either for a specific prompt (like my currently ongoing Snowells Kisses) or just in general (completed 16 fic Snowells prompt set). I find that prompts help inspire me to write characters I wouldn’t have otherwise on my own. Namely, I hadn’t written for Harry, Nash, Sherloque or now HR until I was prompted to and I learned that I really love writing for all 4 of them! :D

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited To Write: I’m super excited for people to get to read the “Unrequited” quartet once they’re done. I think they have something a little different to them, I dunno. Also, I have an HR/Killer Frost prompt fill in progress that I’m enjoying SO MUCH and I hope others will as well. :D HR is such a sweetheart! *draws sparkly pink hearts all around him* ♥

Tagging (if you’d like to do this, otherwise no worries ;) ) @missdanielcraig @nalufever @brokenbookaddict @helplessdreamersworld @snowells1234 @vampcoffeegyrl23 @basmathgirl and anybody else who would like to do this. Please consider yourself tagged from me! *boops your nose politely* ;)

[harleyquinnbluemoonlove]

Welcoming the new Social Movement/Platform/Political Party in the World

Official Name:  Blue Dog Bite Mafia 888 *BETA*

Owner/CEO/Founder/Dealer/Player/Delivery BAD B: 

Current Name:  Monica Gill   FUTURE Name: Mercedes Lynnette Giovanni

Email:  fairytalesexist2020@gmail.com

Current Financial Status:  $0.00     ---- You may DONATE by using CASH APP Cash Tag #$bluedogbitemafia888

***MY CYBER FAMILY MUST ENSURE THAT DONATIONS ARE NOT HIGHJACKED/STOLEN****

BASIC IDEA/PLAN OF ATTACK/EXECUTION OR POSITIVE WORDS LIKE “LAUNCH”.  We can issue an ATTACK or a LAUNCH CODE.

I will dumb it down a little bit. I am taking advantage of my position of power, now that I am a Celebrity in the World. Its the greatest feeling in the world, feels better than good sex and that is a hard thing for me to admit because I love some good, hot, sweaty sex and I’ve been going without for several weeks. I almost fell like a Nun because I cannot even pleasure myself because I was molested as a child by Lovie Price’s boyfriend “Frank Parker” a gasoline man from an early. I told Connie Price about it when I was 15 and her name at the time was Connie Dunford. It was the same day Brandie Ann Thompson said Curtis Triplett tried to rape her in the bathroom at the house In Frayser, Memphis TN. Brandie Ann in her hayday, resembled a youthful Cameron Diaz. Cameron Diaz dated Justin Timberlake once upon a time. She played in the move “The mask” and the mask was green. At the end of the movie, the dog put on the mask. You all know, when you wear that mask---you become a Shape Shifter, transforming into anything/anyone you think will grab the Hot or Not Rated #10 Woman’s ATTENTION/HEART/LOVE and will do anything, I mean anything to get it. The secret to my success is a compilation of everything good, bad, dirty, evil and let’s call it “The Struggle” or the “Human Experience”. 

Old School (OS) Operating System (OS) Back to Basics (B2B) Brandie Thompson (BT) Barry Thompson (BT) Blue Tooth (BT) Brandie Smith (BS) Bull Shit (BS) Rent A Center (RAC) Roger Adren Crawford (RAC) $1K (RAK) Rags to Riches Richard Abernathy (RA) **secret boyfriend shh!!** Douche Bag (DB) or Douglas Belknap (DB) Thomas Jones (TJ) County Road (CR) Danny Thomas (DT)  Deanna Thomas (DT) ... Trying to show you how I think period dot. In ya’ll are slow, period dot also equal two dots. You must have two dots to play connect the dots and draw the lines to illustrate inspiration into a masterpiece. The best pieces of Art are very old, have a solid reputation, and is properly curated to ensure it maintains its value for infinity times three.

Basically, you can get with my program, drink my Kool Aid, swallow your pride, do the right thing, if you have done something wrong, you really need to return to your basic religious beliefs what they may be, get right with yourself, because what you have done will come to light, exposed, we are moving on from there. We are, as a society going to change and deliver the children and the children’s children: a brighter future with more options, a limited amount of privacy, give them the world and see what they can accomplish with living in a world of positive vibes, beautiful colors, great music, entrepreneurship, dreams, and now, the little girls if we get married will truly believe in fairytales. This right here is whats up because we have an opportunity, once in a lifetime opportunity, to fix society, establish unity and peace, competition is good but everyone needs a chance to win sometimes to boost their confidence and pride. When there is monopoly or kingdom, it fosters the seven deadly sins, seven capital sins, and the seven cardinal sins, which is systemic to original sin. 

Genesis clearly explains that certain things were created on certain days and back time was measured. You cannot just create a man or a woman. First, you need the Universe. Then, you need the Galaxy which creates Space. In Space, you have the moon, stars, sun, planets, black holes, asteroids, comets, shooting stars, orbit, gravitational pull. Here we are on planet Earth with 7 continents and 7 oceans. I like the number 8 because it represent a number, a symbol, and no limitations--infinity. My son was born on 3-8-03 weighing 8 pounds, 8 ounces and 19.5 inches long, color: BLUE, life: No sign of it. It took 10 minutes and PLEADING WITH THE LORD AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS SCREAMING PRAYING TO PLEASE GIVE HIM LIFE, I DON’T WANT TO HAVE GONE THROUGH 35.5 HOURS OF LABOR AND 7 HOURS OF HARD PUSHING WITH NO PAIN MEDICINE, NO EPIDURAL, GAVE BIRTH TO A STILL BORN BABY NATURALLY AND THE GOOD LORD ANSWERED MY PRAYERS AND THAT BOY CRIED AND WENT TO THE NICU AT BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL IN MONTGOMERY COUNTY, MARYLAND. ITS ALSO REFERRED TO AS “THE PRESIDENTS HOSPITAL”.

He is 17 years old, already a MASTERMIND and a Professional Gamer. He is so smart like me, that he had to design/build/code his own computer because there is not a computer on the planet that can keep up with his level of gaming. I saw a photo of it. Its a desktop computer with the case taken off the side--lit up with blue LED lights

It’s Confession Time and Holy Communion Time that means confess your sin, wrongdoing, break bread, eat bread, drink wine, not whine. No days off, no excuse, no immunity, no setups, no blame game, no liars, no stealing, checks and balances, no absolute power because absolute power fosters absolute corruption, which is why were in this position right now with COVID-19, Corona Virus.

I think one person needs a pardon because he has stayed on the job, even though he was originally lied to by the Feds. He deserves a pardon, record expunged, and an opportunity. I see great potential, just needs an opportunity, believe in himself, and have the courage to escape his own prison of gold diggers, groupies, fans, and whores.

In this triad, it is a rags to riches story times three. There is only 1 TRUE VERSION of ME, and its right here in Memphis TN, age: 41(Birth Cert).

To succeed in any sports game, you must be fit, educated, content with yourself to include your pros/cons/demons and knowledgeable & intelligent enough to know that I am certified True OG, I got your back no matter what because to me money ain’t a thing, fame fades just like stars, but loyal dogs do not turn on their master unless they are abused or hungry. I am a Blue AKC Royal Bloodline Pitbull, Staffordshire Terrier. Pitbull is the image you need to have in your mind when you think of ME.

#donations #loyalty #888 #TRUMP2020 #IG #WHISTEBLOWER ACT #RULES #ESPNSPORTS #RAPGODS #GREEKGODS #GOD #CLASHOFTITANS #THEGAME #THEROCK #GLUE #DOCTORS   #LAWYERS #COWBOYS #DANCE #L.I.F.E. #LOVE #SM #EM 

#NEED SOME COM[ANY AND VITAMIN D

BLUE, COME ON UNLESS YOU ARE “CHICKEN” “SCARED”

I PROMISE I WILL NOT BITE. BUT, I AM STARVING, LONELY, NEED MONEY TO CREATE AND LAUNCH MY DREAMS TO POSITIVELY AND EFFECTIVELY CHANGE THE WORLD WHICH WILL PLACE ME AND PRESIDENT TRUMP IN THE HISTORY BOOKDS. AND THE HISTORY BOOKS ARE GOING TO BECOME FACTBOOKS, AND HISTORY CLASSES WILL BE MANDATORY THROUGHOUT LIFE REGARDLESS OF AGE, POSITION, JOB, FINANCIAL STATUS BECAUSE THE BEST EDUCATION IS A “CONTINUOUS EDUCATION”. IF YOU DO NOT CONTINUE LEARNING, YOU BECOME RUSTY AND THEN, YOU CANNOT KEEP UP THE FAST PACED CHANGES OF ADVANCE TECHNOLOGY IN THE REAL WORLD AND IN THE REAL GAME OF LIFE.

RECOMMENDATIONS ARE AS FOLLOWS:

1.  DONATE MONEY TO MY CAUSE ON CASH APP 

$BLUEDOGBITEMAFIA888 

DO NOT HACK MY PHONE OR MY LAPTOP, DO NOT HACK ANYTHING OR ANYBODY BC YOU CANNOT DO IT BETTER THAN U.S. BC U.S. CREATED THE INTERNET IN WASHINGTON DC AT THE PENTAGON CALLED “DARPANET” IN 1974. THE FIRST COMPUTER WAS AN APPLE, SECOND COMPUTER WAS MICROSOFT. A GOOD BRAND IS A HP WITH MS WINDOWS. I HAVE A BLUE HP LAPTOP STREAM, I HAVE A BLACK APPLE IPHONE 7. I AM ON A WIFI WITH A VPN THAT KEEPS GETTING DISABLED. THE SOUND ON MY PHONE DOES NOT WORK. I AM BACKING UP BOTH DEVICES AND GOING TO RESET TO FACTORY SETTINGS SO I CAN GURANTEE EFFECTIVE DIGITAL SECURITY.

2. I NEED COMPANY TO SIT WITH ME, DRINK WITH ME. I WOULD LOVE SOME JACK AND COKE OR A BUD LIGHT. I WOULD ALSO LOVE SOME FOOD THAT CONTAINS RED MEAT TO ASSIST ME WITH MY BLOOD PROBLEMS. BUDDY OR BLUE OR YO -- FIGURE IT AND SEND ME SOMEONE I KNOW. I AM TOO PRETTY AND TOO COOL TO BE CHILLING BY MYSELF WITH NO FOOD, NO ALCOHOL, NO MONEY, NO WEED, ETC. 

3.  SELF EVALUATE OR DO A PEER REVIEW/. SELF EVALUATION IS LOOKING AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR AND THINKING ABOUT YOUR LIFE. I LIKE TO WRITE THINGS DOWN, IF HELPS ME. IT WILL BRING ABOUT A SENSE OF UNDERSTANDING WHO, WHAT, WHY YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE, HOW YOU BECAME PERSON, AND DESIGN YOUR OWN ROADMAP TO BEING A BETTER PERSON AND OPENING YOUR HEART TO REALIZATION THAT THE CHILDREN ARE THE FUTURE, RIGHT WE ARE THE WORLD, WE CAN ACHIEVE GREATNESS, A NEW TYPE OF MAGIC “UTOPIA”.

WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT? WHAT DO YOU WANT OUT OF LIFE? ARE YOU HAPPY WITH YOURSELF? CAN YOU FREE YOUR MIND? CAN YOU OPEN YOUR HEARTS? CAN YOU COMMIT? DO YOU KNOW WHEN TO WALK AWAY? WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IN? DO YOU HAVE CONFIDENCE? ARE YOU IN YOUR OWN PRISON--YOUR MIND, YOUR FEELINGS, YOUR RELATIONSHIP STATUS?

WISDOM COMES WITH TIME, EXPERIENCE, EDUCATION, HARD WORK, SERVICE, LOYALTY, PURPOSE, AND TRAVELING.

At the end of the day, who do you want to be with? 

Woman - Wise can deliver the world or drop the world, age 41 -- looks better than 20 & 30 year old GIRLS. Does not care about money, fame, status, power because the game was scheduled and unfortunately, unaware of the OP -- she walked, ran, sprinted STOLE the Flag, and won the game. 

Everyone wants to still run their mouths, try to control a man, and those hos, have no power, position, fame, etc. They are with or around you because of who you are, what you have done, and what you can give them---in my opinion that is abuse of power and targeting someone to manipulating them to do what you want them to do.

I like structure, things to be done a certain way because I like cleanliness, organization, faith, love, hope, trust, and loyalty. 

I would not cop an attitude with everyone, if  I did not feel like the world was against me. Hint, hint -- I don’t trust authority figures because I was molested, abused, targeted, almost died several times, lied to, cheated on, setups, smear campaigns, gossiped about, bullied, beat on, yelled at, called names, jealous women everywhere so dumb they forget I have a hunger against Human  Trafficking. People are on this RACISM BULL SHIT. 

Its 2020, Racism = IGNORANCE AND IGNORANCE IS NOT BLISS ANYMORE, IGNORANCE IS DEADLY. 

Basic belief system of Karma, it is a metaphysical/paranormal reality that is mixed with real, artificial, and soon-to-be virtual reality. It is what it is. 

What you set your mind, what you do and the thoughts and actions you put into the world will either grant you your dreams or come back times three by the of karma, what goes around, comes around.

I want/will do good and be a good role model for everyone. I am going to teach, help you, do what I want, when I want, how I want because I know my worth, my value, and what I can GURANTEE/DELIVER.

Greed, jealousy, laziness, and all the ugly things that are in the world

                                                  WILL

 get you no where but hungry, lonely but free, penniless, candy-less, eliminate sports.

                                        COMMIT OR QUIT

MY MISSION WILL ENDURE AND CARRY ON UNTIL I FEEL MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. I DO NOT HAVE A FAILURE TO THRIVE AND I DO NOT LACK A WILL TO LIVE. 

MY ISNT OVER, YET;

[charginger]

long flight ahead

“James if you don’t stop bouncing your leg I’ll throw you off the plane and you’ll be swimming back to London.”

The messy-haired boy turns his head to face Sirius with a grin that contains the faintest trace of an apology, but mostly just looks amused. “I’m not even touching you, and I’ll go right to sleep once we’re in the air anyways. I just get nervous about the takeoff.” He nudges Sirius with his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you aren’t excited to be going home?”

Sirius is. He and James had embarked on what was meant to be a weeklong trip to New York, but they ended up staying in the city for closer to a month. Their primary goal had been to check out a football team interested in signing James now that he was out of university (“They had a gorgeous pitch, but under no circumstances will they get me to call it soccer.”), and it turned into 3 weeks of James sitting in on a few practices while Sirius got to check out the New York City art scene he’d always heard about. He was also freshly graduated, with a Fine Arts degree, and wanted to have some fun before actually looking for work.

It was a good trip, but now they’re on a plane at six in the bloody morning and someone has already kicked his seat twice from behind him.

“Just because you’ve all but signed a contract with the Lions doesn’t mean you need to jostle my seat the whole flight. I’ll get crabby.” Of course, at that moment, there’s another sharp hit to Sirius’ seat from behind. The timing makes James snicker, and Sirius closes his eyes to take a deep breath.

“You’re already crabby and we haven’t even taken off yet.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. Just wipe that haughty expression off your face before the flight attendant explains to us the responsibility that comes with sitting in an exit row. They might deem you unfit to help save lives, then you’ll have to give up this leg room.”

It’s several minutes later while they’re waiting for permission to take off when yet another kick reaches the back of Sirius’ seat, and he decides to say something before he needs to deal with nine hours of seat kicking. He loosens his seatbelt enough to twist and face the aisle seat behind his.

“Pardon me, but there is somebody actually sitting in the seat you keep kicking-” The bite dies from his words once he gets a look at the man behind him.

“I’m so sorry mate, my leg just keeps cramping, but when I try to move around- I just don’t have that much space back here so- I mean that’s not an excuse, honestly,” the man comments, mostly to himself. “I’ll be more careful with bumping your seat.”

The stranger is not American, that’s the first thing Sirius notices. His accent curves around the words into something more familiar than the harsh, spitting New York cadence that had been a shock upon first exploring the city. He could be from Wales, maybe?

Sirius doesn’t contemplate the origin of his accent for longer than a moment in his mind, because a much more pressing realization is holy fucking shit this is not a bratty 13-year-old kicking his seat. This is a beautiful man. This is a very tall and beautiful man. His long legs seem to be folded almost in half in front of him, one mid-adjustment is pulled halfway to his chest and the other is mostly poking into the aisle beside him. He’s wearing a pullover sweater and joggers that come up just too short on his legs, revealing mismatched socks, both with clashing tartan prints. And if Sirius is being honest with himself, he’s only half paying attention to this man’s apology because his curly brown hair keeps falling just over his eyes. There is also a silver hoop piercing in his left nostril that just didn’t seem to go with the rest of his style, but Sirius finds himself staring at it for maybe a second or two longer than is normal before responding.

“No, don’t even worry about it! I mean, looks like you’ve got a lot of leg to handle there.”

James snorts at the bumbling comment, and Sirius wishes he had said anything but that, with just too much enthusiasm compared to the irritated tone he had just a moment ago.

Luckily, the stranger doesn’t look offended, just slightly amused, and the faintest blush graces his face to make way for a small, kind smile. Meanwhile, Sirius can’t help but wonder if it’s just the poor airplane lighting, or are those really freckles he sees? As the man seems to draw a breath to respond to the leg comment, which Sirius would really just like to move on from, he changes the subject. “You’re Welsh, I’m guessing?”

The man’s parted mouth twitches into the ghost of a smirk, and Sirius hopes it’s because he recognized the accent rather than the definitely red tips of his ears. Of course he had his hair pulled up into a bun, and he can feel them burning under the scrutiny of the man’s gaze.

“Spot on. I lived there most of my life before moving to London a few years ago.”

“That’s so cool!” Sirius responds, again, much more enthusiastic than he means to.

The man releases the faintest breath of a chuckle before both of his thick brows furrow, “Definitely cool. The ever exciting rain-and-sheep combo lends to a thrilling life.” The man keeps a straight face but the sarcasm is obvious.  

James is, at this point, silently shaking at Sirius’ expense, but takes a deep breath before finally turning around as well. “Tell you what, mate, why don’t we switch seats? We’ve more leg room in the exit row and I get less motion-sickness in an aisle seat. It’ll be mutually beneficial.”

The man’s eyes flick from James back to Sirius for a second before smiling and nodding. “As long as it’s mutually beneficial.”

“Brilliant.” James quips, and starts gathering his neck pillow and headphones. The man makes himself busy gathering the book and small bag he has with him, and Sirius takes the opportunity to turn back around and deliver a sharp elbow to James’ ribs.

“You don’t get motion-sickness you prat.”

“I also won’t get any sleep on this flight if you’re planning on badly flirting with Freckles McLonglegs back there.” So they were freckles. “You can talk about how cool you think sheep are.” James pats Sirius on the shoulder before shuffling into the aisle, and within a moment the tall man is sitting right beside him and looking very grateful to be able to stretch his legs.

Sirius at this point realizes he doesn’t know the stranger’s name, and pulls a bit of his usual confidence out of his arse to extend a handshake, “My name is Sirius, by the way.”

“I’m Remus,” he accepts, with a warm and calloused hand.

Sirius barks a quiet laugh and adds, “Well I’m glad your parents gave you a shit name, too.”

“Well I say you’ve got it worse. At least there aren’t many puns to be made with ‘Remus’.”

“Oh, on the contrary. Name puns are one of my redeeming factors.” Sirius is glad to receive a laugh from the man- Remus.

“I can’t imagine they’re all that creative, you sure you want to call that redeeming?”

Now, Sirius has dealt with making jokes about his name for 22 years now, and the familiarity of the topic gives him a confidence boost. He puts a hand to his heart in mock-offense.

“Bold words from someone who was violently kicking me in the back not 5 minutes ago.”

Remus lets out a laugh so low it can almost be described as a giggle.

“I really am sorry,” he says after a breath, “My mum likes to joke that I still haven’t grown into my legs.”

Great. The cute Welsh man who wears sweaters, blushes, is endearingly tall, and upon a closer look- yes, he definitely has freckles, is also a momma’s boy. Sirius wants him.

With a ‘here goes nothing’ attitude, Sirius comments, “I’m sure your boyfriend doesn’t mind, though.” It’s not an original line, but who wants their time wasted?

Remus doesn’t seem to mind the choppy segue, as his smile doesn’t falter when he responds, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Sirius furrows his brow as though Remus has presented him with a complex equation to solve. “I see…” Sirius raises one shoulder into a shrug, “Were you looking to change that by any chance?”

Remus giggles (fucking giggles) once again, and with his ears slightly reddening from where his hair curls over them replies, “Well, I did run into this fit posh bloke not too long ago. I was thinking about asking for his phone number.”

////////////////////

okaaay wow I’m nervous to post this, but I had the idea in my head and got it written down so might as well? I’ve been following other hp writers/ creators for awhile and love all of the content that gets put out by them, so I figure if anybody out there likes what I have to write I should just go for it.

if anybody wants to send me ideas of other things to write please feel welcome!! I have some other things I’m working on right now as well but I’d love to hear from anyone who has anything to say. 

I’m gonna go ahead and tag some blogs I really love down below, I can’t get them all in (there are soooo many amazing and supportive people on here wow) but I really appreciate the inspiration from you all!

[mrsrhys23]

Countdown

Countdown -  Lay me down (chapter one)

Summary: People are dying,  they’re dying in the most unusual ways and nobody seems to be taking notice. When somebody close to Eliza Smiths heart dies, the young queen embarks on a journey to find out what really happened. 

(This summary is awful. I can’t write it effectively without giving so much away.)

Parings: Liam x MC (Eliza Smith)

Warnings: Depression, suicide, Self-harm, murder, major character death. This series is going to get pretty dark quite quickly, so If you are sensitive  to any of these things please don't read this. 

Word count: 1508

A/N: These characters belong to Pixelberry Studios. This was inspired by @msjr0119‘s forgive me and the smiley face killer theory. I’ve been doing loads of research, which I do realise seems like a bad thing to research and got an idea. I’m going to deviate a little bit from the theory just so it fits the plot. 

Permatags: @itschoicesstuff, @roisebeaumontworld21, @desiree-0816, @cordoniaqueensworld Just let me know if you’d like to be tagged.

It was a normal day, looking at what  Eliza could see now you wouldn’t have thought so, but it was.

She got out of bed, showered, got dressed did all of it, met her friends in the dining room,  ate breakfast and got to her meeting. Like any other day.

Why didn’t she see that something was wrong? Why couldn’t she stop him? She had been there so many times, she knew the signs, but he showed none, he was happy, grumpy like usual but happy. But he wasn’t because he’s now dead, so something must’ve been so wrong that he just couldn’t bear one more day.

Eliza Harris and Drake Walker, quite the partners in crime. Yes, he was jaded and unsociable when they met but he morphed into one of her best friends, someone she shared both highs and lows with, someone who she could talk to and not pass judgment only advice, the person that meant everything to her. She loved him, platonically though, but she did love him.  

It was hard to think that just a few hours ago he was alive and now he wasn’t. Now he had taken his life and there wasn’t a damn thing anybody could do about it.

Just a few hours ago Eliza was sat eating breakfast with her husband, Liam, and friends, Maxwell and Hana, laughing as one of their best friends took his own life.

Granted, they hadn’t spent that much time together of late because they both were so busy, Eliza was helping her husband rule a country and Drake was now the stable hand and was also involved in the council, but she should’ve made time for him, she should’ve been there for him in his darkest hour, but she wasn’t and now he wasn’t here anymore.

Three hours ago.

Eliza was awoken by Liam’s cold feet brushing against her leg, she kicked him as he chuckled. “it’s time to get up,  my love,” Liam explained. 

“No,” Eliza mumbled from halfway down the bed, Liam often wondered how she could breathe down there.  

Liam pressed his cold foot against her bare leg again earing a grunt from her and a slap on the leg. “It’s still dark.”

“That’s because the curtains are closed,” Liam chuckled, “Come on, we won’t make the morning council meeting if you don’t get out of bed now.”

“Why did I have to marry a morning person with extremely cold feet?” She grumbled.

“Come on,” Liam said, getting out of bed and into the en suite bathroom. She heard the shower turn on through the still open door.  Eliza sighed and threw back the comforter and followed Liam into the shower.

After they’re morning ‘activities’ they headed down to the dining room. They met Maxwell and Hana outside.

“Where’s mister grumpy pants?” Eliza joked.

“We’re not sure. We haven’t seen him this morning,” Hana explained.

“He’s probably just recovering from last night,” Liam suggested.

“Yeah, he did go pretty heavy on the whiskey,” Maxwell added.

That was something Eliza had noticed; Drake was drinking more. To somebody that didn’t know him all that well his normal alcohol consumption would seem a little obsessive, but this was more so. Other than drinking a little bit more he seemed fine. Liam was probably right; Drake would just be sleeping it off. But then again he seemed pretty out of it last night…No she was worrying too much, but she knew things about Drake that nobody else did, which made worry about him very valid.

“Yeah,” Eliza agreed as they headed on in and enjoyed their breakfast then all headed to the council meeting. It was just going over some details about an upcoming ball, quite boring for most people in attendance but it needed to be done, things needed to be finalised. 

They meet up with the other council members and took a seat, Eliza started at the clock and then at the door. 

“I don't think the commoner is coming,” Neville sneered. Nobody even invited him really, he had been filling in for Madeline since they had been shacking up and she had been taking some leave. 

“Lord Neville,” Eliza began, leaning forward on her elbows, “Continue to call my friend a ‘commoner’ when he is superior to you in many aspects you will not be welcome here again. Do I make myself clear?” Neville nodded reluctantly; Eliza raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Yes, your majesty,” he grunted. 

“Good,” Eliza exclaimed, leaning back and giving one last look to the door and then the clock. They didn't have all day, they all had other things they needed to do, “Well, it seems like Lord Neville is correct, Drake isn't coming.” And with that the meeting kicked off and then they headed their own way. 

Eliza and Liam walked toward their offices together, “I'm worried about, Drake,” Eliza said. 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Liam dismissed. He did care about his friend, but this was typical Drake when he was hungover, “If you’re that worried why don’t you go and check on him?” Liam suggested. 

“My meeting...” 

“You’re the queen. You can do what you want within reason of course.” 

“Sure?” 

“Yeah, go.” Eliza leaned up and planted a kiss on his lips then took off toward Drake’s quarters. She had a bad feeling, one that was getting difficult to ignore.

Eliza tapped her knuckles against Drakes door, no answer, so she did it again. Again same thing, not even a  grumbles telling her to go away. She tried the door, but it was locked. 

Eliza  left Drakes door and knocked on another. “Come in,” she heard the deep males voice yell. She opened the door and peeped in. “Oh, your majesty. What can I do for you?” 

“Hey, Bas, could you unlock Drake’s door for me?” 

“Is something wrong?” Bastien questioned, getting to his feet and grabbing some keys from a draw in a cabinet on the other side of the room. 

“I don't know,” Eliza answered truthfully, “I just want to check on him.” 

“You’re sure that’s all this is?” Bastien double checked. 

“Yeah,” Eliza nodded. With that they headed out of Bastien's office and to Drake’s door, he put the key in the lock and turned to look back at her. 

“What if he’s asleep?” 

“Then I will take his hungover grumbling. Just open the order,” Eliza ordered. He twisted the key and pushed it open, allowing the queen in first. The room was Dark, the curtains were closed and there was a strong smell of whiskey in the air. 

Eliza walked carefully over to the window, watching her step in the dark, and pulled the heavy drapes open. The sunlight momentarily blinded her but then her eyes sight adjusted. She turned to looked back at Bastien was who staring at something, frozen. She slowly turned her head and saw her friend, lying on the floor, unmoving. Tears stung her eye. “Drake?” Eliza asked, as she and Bastien ran across the room. “Drake!”

Bastien turned him onto his back and pressed two fingers to his neck. “He’s not breathing.” 

Eliza started screaming, grabbing the attention of Liam who was walking toward his oldest friends room in search of his wife and to make sure everything was okay, but when he heard Eliza he started running, getting strange looks from staff members but he needed to know what was wrong. 

Just as Liam arrived, Eliza came bombing out and threw up into a nearby planter. “Eliza, what’s wrong?” 

“D-Dra,” she was cut off by feeling the need to empty her stomach yet again. Liam rubbed her back, whatever was happening wasn't good, not if Eliza was in such a state and then the palace doctor came onto the scene and ran into the room, not even acknowledging the king and queen. It was then Liam got a very, very bad feeling. 

“Eliza, what’s happened?” Liam asked, as he headed toward the doorway, but was yanked back by his wife. She just shook her head at him. 

“D-don’t go in there,” she said, unable to stop the new lot of tears cascading down her cheeks. When she looked back up Bastien was stood in the doorway, also unable to stop his tears. 

“Bastien...?” Liam asked, not letting himself break down until he knew what was happening. 

“Bastien,” Eliza pleaded with him as she stepped closer to the head of the royal guard, “Please...”

He just physically couldn't tell the queen that the boy had raised, that was like a son to him, was dead, so he just shook his head. 

“Will someone just tell me what is going on?!” Liam bellowed. 

“Drake...He’s dead,” Eliza whispered, like if she didn't say it out loud it wouldn't be true. Bastien held something out to Eliza, she took it not releasing what it was.

She read the words on the page with clouded vision as Liam peered over her shoulder. One thing she didn't notice was the smiley face on the back of the page.

[sophielovesbooks]

10 Questions Tag

I was tagged by @thewalkingnerdx so first of all, thank you so much! <3 I really enjoyed reading all of your answers to your questions. Your WIPs sound super interesting! And as a general rule, I often take ages to actually reply to tags, but I ALWAYS love being tagged and simply respond when I find the time, so please don’t stop tagging me, I really appreciate it! :)

Rules: answer 10 questions, ask another 10, then tag 10 people.

1. Do you have a writing routine? 

Hm, not really, but I love to do my writing first thing in the morning. So when possible, I just get up in the morning, get some coffee or tea and sit down to write for an hour or two. (The downside is that I often struggle to get into a writing mood later in the day, and if I have something else to do in the morning, that often means no writing for that entire day…) 

2. Talk about the first story you've ever written!

Heh. Oh God. I started writing pretty much as soon as I could write! My first stories were little “books” that I made by folding the paper in a special way, with drawings and only a few speech bubbles with the very few words I could write, and I guess it evolved from there. In one of the first, I “wrote” about a little witch flying around on her broom, I think? Oh, and I wrote my first novel in third grade (80 handwritten pages, haha), and it was a typical horse story! 

3. Music on or music off?

Usually off, because it distracts me too much. I also often mumble the words out loud while writing. But sometimes I listen to a particular song in the beginning to get in the proper mood for a scene. 

4. What is the aesthetic of your current Wip?

Very pastel. Soft tones. Sunrises and sunsets. Shooting stars and constellations. Beautiful beaches. Two girls holding hands for the first time...

5. Something you're particularly proud of? (Could be a character arc, a scene, a plot twist, or all of that)

The general fact that I’ve already finished 4 proper novels in my life. The last time this happened was 5 years ago, so I’ve been struggling with finishing something for a while now, but the fact that I wrote 4 complete novels as a teen makes me proud and gives me a bit of hope sometimes. 

6. What is a genre you'd never touch?

I can’t promise that I’ll never touch them, but I’m really not a big fan of Sci-Fi. And of historical stuff. 

7. A piece of media that inspired you a lot? (Could be a book, a movie, a TV show, a podcast, literally anything)

Definitely the Dublin Murder Squad series. In my opinion, Tana’s writing is perfect. (And Alice Oseman’s books, such as Radio Silence, have also been really inspiring.)

8. A writing rule you always follow?

This is not a hard rule, but I’ve always written my novels in order, starting with the first scene and ending with the last. That’s not the only way to do it, of course, and a lot can be said for other methods, but it seems to work that way for me. Another rule might be that I always plan first, write then. For example, when I was 14, I spent 6 months planning a novel, then 6 months writing it. 

9. A writing rule you absolutely despise?

“Kill your darlings”. Maybe I’ve misunderstood it or something, but my dad once explained to me that I should cut out anything I was particularly proud of and thought was especially good and I was just like: “What the heck?! No! Why would I do that”

10. Finally, imagine you are a published author. You are at a convention, and a fan is praising your work. What are they telling you? 

Oh my God, imagining this situation feels like such hybris! But I hope that they would tell me that they could relate to my characters? And since I’m writing queer YA at the moment... it’d be great if it ever helped anybody in figuring out their identity/sexuality. 

These were really good questions and will be hard to follow up, but I’ll try: 

1. Which of your characters would you most like to have as a friend?  2. Where do you usually go to write? 3. Why do you write? (A tough one, I know) 4. A trope you hate?  5. Which genre do you most like to write?  6. Do you write only original work or also fanfiction?  7. If you could switch places with one of your characters and live their life instead of yours, would you do it? If yes, which one and why? 8. Do you think characters have to suffer for a book to be good? 9. Planner or pantser? 10. If you plan your stories, where do you plan them? In a special project folder,a word document, a physical notebook...?

I’m tagging… @augustinianseptember @writer-cj-blackwell @writing-with-tea @stardustscribes @bettsican @bisexual-in-progress @leave-her-a-tome @waterfallwritings @para-di-siac @miss-nerd-alert

No pressure, of course, but I’d be interested in ya’ll’s responses! :)

[ravens-rambling]

Snow Day

A/N: Hhheeeyyyy heres some more of that merman au!! and yeesss its angsty i’m sorry about that!! I swear I can’t write or draw anything fluffy for this au for some reason XD but I might continue this??? Idk we’ll see!! Also sorry its short I wanted to make it longer but I didn’t have the time but I hope you enjoy!!

Continuation of this https://ravens-rambling.tumblr.com/post/180322931633/if-you-are-still-doing-the-prompt-thing-merman

Inspired by @sanderssidescelebrations holiday list

summary: It was a cold winter’s day when Virgil stumbles upon something that he has only seen in nightmares, his love suffering and hurt, the only one who has cared about him his entire life. The only one that has shown him love, was now hurting and he can’t do much about it. But his frantic mind thinks of something even though it may hurt the merman it’s the only thing he can think of. 

WC: 1,360

ships: Romantic Prinxiety 

warnings: crying, hypothermia, starving, panic, anxiety, 

Tag List: @punsterterry  @stormcrawler75 @frostedlover

(Au Tag List:) @vampy-personal @fandersxhale @shreckolas-cage @nasayeepo @royally-anxious @youre-lazy-and-youre-gay0-0 @mycatshuman @ishoulddyemyhairthatcolour @missblueberry5 @changeling-ash @shadowjag @vir-gull @beyondthestacks

Virgil’s pace quickened as he walked through the freezing snow, even though he had on two jackets, thick pants, mittens, and a beanie, he still was freezing. He could see his breath as he panted a bit. Normally he doesn’t mind the cold but this is ridiculous. It normally doesn’t get this cold where they are but for some reason this year there was a sudden cold spike that has lasted all week long.

He hurried along the snow lazily drifting past him as he panted. But as he arrived near the ocean he glanced over his shoulder smiling faintly at remembering the fish human-like creature he has met not that long ago.

As a matter of fact, he hasn’t seen him for quite some time not since winter has started in fact. Maybe his kind is sensitive to the cold… Well, whatever the case he hopes he sees him soon he has rather quite enjoyed his company despite the fact they can’t properly talk to each other…

He stopped and checked the time on his phone, digging it out of his thick sweater pocket, he still has a bit of time left maybe he could go visit their spot. Just to make himself feel more depressed and lonely why not right?

Slowly he made his way down the stairs leading to the ocean, taking extra care of where he stepped and how so he doesn’t slip on any ice or snow. Once he got down he made his way towards the cave there wasn’t a single trace of anybody down here, it’s properly too cold for any living soul to be here, Virgil thought.

He sighed deeply with a small smile as he entered the familiar cave remembering the times he would come here to visit the merman. And the time he first met him.

It was only a few months ago but it felt so much longer. At first, Virgil had been afraid of this merman but soon came to realize that he was just as afraid of him as he was to the fish. If not even more so. He became intrigued by this fish and had come almost every day to visit. Sure they couldn’t properly talk to each other but they still became fast friends… And maybe something more.

They intrigued each other, learned from each other, despite everything in them screaming at them not to. They were drawn together like some cheesy romance movie.

As he stepped closer to the normal spot, the only opening to the outside world other then the entrance, he was so lost in his memories he didn’t see it at first but he heard it. A raspy painful breathing that echoed through the cave, it echoed around him as it bounced off the rock walls. How did he not notice that sound? Was it the small waves crashing against the sand drowning out the noise? It must be.

His body became stiff at the sound. What could possibly be making that noise? It didn’t sound quite human nor fish like… Wait… No…

His eyes widened his footsteps quickened, please don’t be….

His heart dropped to his stomach when he turned a corner and right where the foggy sunlight was beaming down on the sand he could see the familiar sparkles of the red tail. Gulping he drew nearer, the sound was definitely coming from it, and what he saw made his heart break.

The merman, one that he maybe has come to love, was curled up amongst the sand his arms wrapped around his naked torso and his tail against his chest. But what really freaked Virgil out was the fact that his breathing was shallow, it looked almost painful, as he gasped for air. Virgil could see that his breaths were fog as it came out of his mouth. He was shaking so hard and violently that Virgil was afraid he would hurt himself. Virgil could see his rib cage quite clearly, sure he was skinny normally but not this skinny it was a sickly sight.

Worse of all was the fact that Virgil could see little chips of ice creeping along his tail and scales.

He was freezing to death.

“O-Oh god… No…”

He quickly dashed forward immediately taking off one of his jackets and trying to wrap the merman in it.

His eyes opened up slowly the familiar red pupils ever so slowly looked up to him and oh gods the pain that was in his features… It took everything in him not to cry.

He clicked his mouth a few times his hand drawing away from his torso and slowly making his way to Virgil’s arm. Once it did he softly gripped on to it then smiled gently. His eyes then closed the next moment.

“N-No.. Please.. Stay with me.. I can’t lose you… P-please…”

He didn’t even realize he was crying until he saw bits of water splash against the merman’s face scales. But none of that mattered. He had to save him.

He grabbed another one of his jackets wrapping it once again around the merman and pulled him closer to his chest for warmth and maybe a little comfort. He could tell he was freezing now too but he ignored it. He wasn’t even sure if this would work on the fish creature but he had to try something.

He couldn’t stand to just sit here and watch him freeze to death.

But still his breathing was quick and ragged, still, his skin and scales were deadly cold. And now Virgil could see that even his lips were blue, that he looked deadly pale and that says a lot coming from him. He looked dead to Virgil’s eyes.

He can’t lose him. This creature didn’t see him as a monster or something to toss out like everyone else in his life. He saw him as him. And he can’t lose that.

Though his panic he tried to think of what else he could do. What else could he possibly do???

That’s when a thought occurred to him. Sure it was risky, sure it could hurt him more, but he had to try.

Ever so gently he lowered his hands from the merman’s face to below his torso. One hand gripped his back and another towards his tail and he tried to be gentle as he lifted the merman.

He was so light it made Virgil winch. No way would merman’s normally be this skinny and lightweight. There had to be something wrong.

There was no way he could hide the huge merman’s tail but hopefully, people will just think its a costume or something. Hopefully…

He had to be quick cause it didn’t look like he could last much longer so he set off.

The trip up the stairs was a tough one but he managed it without slipping or hurting him thankfully.

He tried to keep to the side roads and alleyways the most he could trying to avoid as many people as possible. All the meanwhile jogging as fast as he could while trying not to slip. But as he got about half way there he could hear the merman was practically gasping for every single breath. His gills by the side of his neck were flaring. He properly wasn’t used to being out of the water this long.

The only thing he could do for him in the meantime was whisper reassurances, though he wasn't really quite sure who he was saying it to at this point.

When he finally made it to Logan’s apartment Virgil managed to take a breath, they finally made it. He kicked the door with his foot screaming out Logan's name, he knew he would be home at this time not having classes for a few hours and today was his day off from work.

But it still came as a reassurance when he saw the familiar glasses wearing man open the door with a slight creek he looked about ready to talk Virgil’s ear off when he saw what he had in his arms.

“P-Please… H-Help him…”

He all but practically cried out.

[hailqiqi]

26 and 49 for the writers ask please

Hi Anon! Thank you for the ask! :D

Fic Writers Asks!

26. story you’re most proud of 

My immediate answer is Skirting Katabasis.

This is from a professional writing point of view – I had no ‘inspiration’ for this fic, I sat down and said ‘I want to write a Kidge BROTP Adventure Story with side Plance’ and worked out a plot, outlined it, and then started writing it. It’s full of convoluted plots which I feel like I’ve seeded well, and the extra details and scenes which weren’t outlined have all added to it and made it a very rich tapestry. I’m proud of every bit of work I’ve put into this fic (and shout-out to @sp4c3-0ddity for being such a fabulous beta for it!). Like if ever there’s a story that proves I have actual potential and prowress as a writer, it’s this.

My less-technical answers are (surprisingly) The Future in Snippets and the world is out there, my dear, but we’re in here. Snippets because it became such a convoluted emotional mess and I feel like I’m doing a decent job handling that, and world because I successfully managed to capture the tense anticipation I’d had in my head for that fic, and I’d never really done that before.

49. writing advice

oooh. OK. So I ended up writing 8 points below.

1) read. Not even necessarily critically. Just read. The more you read, the more you absorb and familiarise yourself with how words and scenes go together. Read, read, and read some more.

2) outlines are your friend. Even for short fics, I have an outline. Outlines give you a map to follow from A-to-Z. They stop you worrying about ‘what am I gonna do next?’ as you write, and you don’t feel that d’oh! when you forget to include an important plot point. Also, when you write an outline you get to seriously sit down and think about the story as a whole, and you can figure out what’s going to work and what isn’t so it lets you modify the plot/scenes/structure of the fic before you waste time writing scenes you aren’t going to use.  I’ll frequently write additional scenes and details that weren’t in the outline, but I’ve never written a scene for a story and then had to delete it.

3) don’t compare yourself skill-wise to other writers. writing isn’t a talent - it’s a skill. Thinking up of stories, being creative - that’s a skill, one that you can learn. Some people have been practicing for 20 years in various ways, some for 6 months - y ou never know how long someone else has been working at their craft.

4) don’t get too attached to your writing. Some people feel like their writing is their art, it’s an extension of themselves. That feeling only holds you back, because it can make any criticism of your writing feel like a personal attack. Once you’ve written something, let it go and exist on it’s own.  Writing is a skill, and to improve a skill you need to know what’s wrong. tangible critical feedback is 80% more useful than positive feedback. Positive feedback is great because it lets you know what you’re doing well, but critical feedback draws your attention to where you need to polish it up and that gives you an opportunity to improve. If all anybody ever says is ‘I love it!’ then you stagnate.

5) do pay attention to the feedback other writers get, and the things you admire about their work. Other readers might point out things you’ve missed, and the way other authors write things can give you references and a basis on which to develop your own way of doing that thing (for instance, I have a list of fics I’ll reference for Lance POV, for Pidge POV, and for 3rd Party Narration). It gives you things to think about when you’re stuck!

6) look up writing resources. There are GREAT resources online for writing. Especially tumblr posts (I think I have a link to my resource tag on my fic page). There’s stuff that helps you write more snappy narratives, better dialogue, helps you to capture character voice etc. Use it!  Ask other authors for advice! Sometimes we read over our own writing and we think it’s lacking something but we don’t know what. Reading these kind of ‘technical’ resources can help us to identify these issues and shape it into something that we wanna read.

7) write for yourself. Yah this one’s cliched but…it’s true. If you write for the validation of feedback then you’re gonna be constantly anxious about your stories, and you might not write something true to you. Don’t think about the audience - worry about them later, when you’re tagging or writing summaries and author’s notes. Write something that you enjoy reading yourself, something that you can open up again in a day or so and go ‘hey I like this story’. At the end of the day the audience is really nice and definitely motivates me to make time to write, but the pleasure of writing in itself is what I enjoy about writing. And, as a reader, I enjoy reading fics where the author’s personality shines through – like yes, this trope might be overused, but you can tell that it’s X Author’s version and I like that!  When you write for an audience you tend to write for the most generic, common denominator and that - unsurprisingly - produces a generic story. You gotta put a little soul into your writing, and you can only do that when you write for you.

(Even when it’s paid writing, they paid you to do it because they want you! Anyone can churn something out to meet specifications. You got the job cause they want your flavour.)

8) talk to other authors. Making friends with other authors can give you motivation to write. It’ll give you access to that all-important honest criticism that lets you grow. Other writers are also fantastic resources - I know I’ll ask in a discord group ‘Hey I’m having trouble writing Keith, any help?’ and I’ll get like a bazillion Keith fics that people found helpful and an in-depth discussion of his character quirks. Author friends also give you an outlet to vent about writing frustrations or feedback frustrations.

I think that’s it!